


Anything But Ordinary

by Kellyjelly



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguments, Bike Riding, Call Me By Your Name-AU, Comfort, Confessions of love, First Meeting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Italy, John dislikes Sherlock at first, John is 17, John’s parents are awesome, Kiss underwater, Kissing, Light Touches, Loss of Virgintiy, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sadness, Secretly Sherlock desperately wants John, Sherlock appears out of nowhere, Sherlock is 24, Sherlock is a bit mean, Sherlock leaves, Slow Build, Smut, Summer Love, Sweetness, Swimming, True Love, bottom!John, late night walks, piano playing, top!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 04:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14783208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyjelly/pseuds/Kellyjelly
Summary: John is a seventeen year old boy who lives in Italy with his mother and father.Sherlock is a twenty four year old man who lives in London but was invited to stay over at the Watson home in Italy.Sherlock arrives in Italy and meets John. At first they don’t meet eye to eye but later they will both realize that they’ve been living a life without each other for so long, and these six weeks that Sherlock is staying with John, they’ll see how much they love each other.





	1. It Started In Northern Italy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is a Sherlock fic in an AU of Call Me By Your Name. I’ve had this stored away since the beginning of this year. At first I lost interest in it but now, I got my brain together and completed the first chapter.

The summer breeze in Italy was like a refreshing drink of water, sweeping through the many still houses that occupied Northern Italy. The light breeze traveled fields, streams, trees, and almost everything that the wind could touch. It swiftly entered through John’s window, making the 17-year-old shiver a little. John was shirtless due to the heat expanding all over Italy. He was emptying his closet, throwing his clothes onto the unoccupied bed, while the second bed next to it was currently being used by Greg. 

“Hey mate, I think Jim has a thing for you.” 

John turned his attention to his friend. “I think Molly has a thing for you.” 

Greg immediately sat upright. “Really?” 

“Sure, do you not notice how she longingly stares at you.” 

“No. Dammit! I have to be more observant.” Greg slid down, his back meeting the softness of the mattress beneath him again. 

John laughed. “You really should.” 

“What about you? Do you like Jim?” Greg questioned. 

The seventeen-year-old boy tossed his shorts onto the second bed and placed his hands on the bed frame, flexing his golden muscles. “He’s sweet but I’m not sure. He is attractive but at times he’s a bit… strange.” 

“You want him and he wants you. Who wouldn’t want those barely visible muscles and almost apparent abs.” Greg pointed at John’s body. “John, as your friend, I think you should go after him and give him a chance.” 

John chuckled. “I’ll figure that out later.” 

“Right, so, how are you feeling about the bloke who’s going to stay here?” 

The sandy blonde-haired boy shrugged. “Not sure. My dad said he’s in a chemistry major, of course, since my dad got his major in chemistry as well. Apparently, he’s 24 years old and lives in London. I hope he’s easy going, not like the guy we had last year.” 

“Oh yeah, that guy was not sociable at all. Hopefully, this one is fun.” Greg smiled. 

John continued to fish out the rest of his clothes from the closet and transferred the pile of clothes to the new room he’ll be staying in for the next six weeks. He reentered his room when suddenly, he heard the motor of a car. John looked at Greg, “Looks like he’s here.” 

The two boys rushed to the window and saw a fancy black car pulling up to the front of B. John and Greg waited patiently for the new guest to show himself. The driver exited the car and went around the vehicle to open the door for the person in the back. John’s parents, Sybil and Evan Watson, emerged from the house and greeted the new guest. As they approached the black car, a young tall man descended from the vehicle. He had pale skin, a slim but toned body, black rowdy curls, and he wore a perfectly tailored suit. 

Evan spoke first, “Mr. Holmes, welcome.” 

“Please call me Sherlock.” Sherlock extended his hand and shook Evan’s and Sybil’s hand. “Thank you for having me.” 

“Oh, it’s our pleasure.” Sybil remarked excitedly. 

Evan was shocked at how tall Sherlock was. “Oh, my goodness, you’re taller than what I expected from your photo.” 

Sherlock grabbed his bags, “Trying to get all of me in the picture was exhausting, so I decided to cut it short and only send my face.” Evan and Sybil laughed. 

“He seems confident.” John whispered to Greg. 

Greg leaned closer to John. “Looks like it. Maybe he’s a nice guy, once you get to know him.” 

“I guess but he seems too confident.” John lifted his eyebrow. 

Evan took Sherlock’s bags and asked Sybil where John was. Sybil looked up and signaled John to come down and greet their guest. “I should go down.” John went towards the door. 

“Mate wait! You’re going to introduce yourself with your nipples exposed.” Greg went to the room next door and tossed John a light pink button up shirt. “Make a good first impression.” 

John laughed. “Thanks Greg.” 

John slid the shirt over his tanned arms and buttoned up the front of his shirt. Barefoot, he went down the stairs, the sound of his feet meeting the cold wood echoed through the stairwell. As he reached the bottom step, he fixed his navy-blue shorts and met with his mother. 

She greeted her son. “Darling, come on, say hello to our new guest.” 

John kissed his mother’s cheek. “Alright mom.” Sybil directed John towards the living room and the boy smiled at his father. 

Evan gladly introduced the two. “Ah John. John meet Sherlock. Sherlock meet John.” 

John approached the taller man and extended his hand. “Hello.” 

Sherlock shook John’s hand. “Hello John.” John was a bit surprised at how deep and baritone, Sherlock’s voice was. 

“You must be tired.” Evan broke John’s thoughts. 

Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets. “A bit.” 

“Shall we go upstairs and I’ll show you your room and you can rest.” John offered. 

“Sure. Thank you.” Sherlock smiled. 

John grabbed Sherlock’s bags and headed upstairs. Sherlock followed the shorter boy upstairs and quickly deduced everything about John. 

Greg met John halfway through the stairs. “You’re leaving already?” John asked. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.” Greg halted at seeing the new stranger. “Hello mate. I’m Greg.” He extended his hand. 

Sherlock shook his hand. “Sherlock.” 

“Nice to meet you. So long John.” Greg dashed down the stairs and left the two alone. 

John continued going upstairs until they reached the second floor. He directed Sherlock to his room and placed his bags on one of the beds. 

“Is he your lover?” Sherlock asked. 

John faced Sherlock, confusion spilling all over his face. “Who?” 

“Are you that slow? Greg?” Sherlock clarified. 

John ignored the first question. “No. He’s my best friend. Nothing more.” 

“Oh, interesting.” 

John looked around the room awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Well, this is your room now. I’ll be next door. We have to share the bathroom. Other than that, make yourself at home.” 

“Why do I get your room?” 

“I’m sorry.” John was perplexed by the question. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Indeed you are slow. Why do I get your room? Why couldn’t I get the guest room, where I suspect you’ll be staying in.” 

John was becoming irritated at their guests’ attitude. “It’s called being polite.” 

Sherlock huffed annoyingly, “Humans and politeness, how exhausting. I would have preferred the guest bedroom.” 

“I just moved all of my stuff to the next room just so you can occupy my bedroom.” 

“Fine. Although your touch in this bedroom is quite obvious and there are traces of your cologne residing in every inch of this room, but other than that, I’ll be able to function correctly and concentrate on my work.” 

John already didn’t like Sherlock, not one bit. “What are you a psychopath or something?” 

“Highly functioning sociopath.” 

The seventeen-year-old boy nodded. “Right. Well I’d love to stay and chat but I have to go. If you need anything, I’m next door.” 

“You mentioned that already.” 

John stared at the 24-year-old and swiftly fled from his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He groaned in vexation, these six weeks will be hell. John went downstairs and decided to go for a run. He removed his pink shirt and tossed it onto the couch. 

“Where are you going, John?” His father asked him. 

“Out for a run.” 

Evan lit his cigarette and smiled at his son. “Alright, remember to be back in time for dinner so you can interact with Sherlock better.” 

John snorted, “Sure dad.” 

The boy grabbed his running shoes and slipped them on. He stepped out of his house and stretched his legs before he began to run. The sun danced off his chest as he ran at a moderate pace, furthering himself from B. 

Sherlock approached the window in his room and his eyes raked over John’s seminude form. He studied him, “Hm. Interesting.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
After 25 minutes, John was jogging back to B. It was a short run but John was sweaty, he felt streams of sweat rolling down his back, he definitely needed a shower. John jogged into the hallway and rested his hands on his sweaty thighs as he regained his proper breathing. He started to walk up the stairs and entered his new room. John removed his shorts and shoes and walked into the bathroom, completely naked. His bare bum was out for the world to see, he reached forward grabbing his shampoo, exposing a little too much skin for those who may be watching. 

“How was your run?” Sherlock asked, while his eyes roamed over the boy’s ass. 

John grabbed the towel in front of him and covered his lower region, he turned around to face Sherlock, while his uncovered butt faced the wall behind him. “Shit!” 

Sherlock remained emotionless, his gaze focused on the now covered boy, well still seminude but John’s favorable organ was hidden from Sherlock. “Your run was short.” 

“Yes. What do you want?” 

“Why do you suspect I need something from you?” 

John wanted to laugh. “Well, I’m naked if you haven’t noticed and you entered the bathroom without properly announcing your presence and you’re simply standing here. Naturally, I might think you need something.” 

“I’m conducting an experiment in the bathtub. If you entered the tub, you would have ruined it. I’m here to simply collect it and let you enjoy your shower.” Sherlock placed his hands behind his back. 

John suitably wrapped the towel around his waist and walked towards the bathtub. To his surprise, he saw different colored liquid samples placed on a board, resting inside the bathtub. 

Sherlock walked up to the bathtub and retrieved his experiment. “You can enjoy your shower now.” 

John watched as Sherlock disappeared into the next room and closed the door. The boy honestly had a weird feeling towards the man who occupied his room, though he still doesn’t like him. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was on his bed, reading a book when Mrs. Hudson rang the bell, notifying everyone that dinner was ready. He tossed his book onto the nightstand and started to head downstairs when he realized that Sherlock wasn’t coming out of his room. John went back and walked through bathroom and approached the door that lead to Sherlock’s room. He heard Sherlock arguing with someone on the phone. John quietly pressed his ear against the door when Sherlock abruptly swung the door open. 

“Is there something you need besides listening to my conversations?” 

John stepped back, “Dinner is ready.” 

“Oh, was that the infernal sound that resounded through these walls.” 

“It’s a bell, our cook and housekeeper always rings it to let us know that dinner is ready.” John clarified. 

“I am not hungry.” 

“My parents are expecting you to show up.” 

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the side of the door, completely bored out of his mind. “You will make an excuse for me, won’t you? Thank you. Enjoy your dinner.” The pale man shut the door in John’s face and walked towards the bed. 

John scoffed at Sherlock’s rudeness and stomped his way downstairs. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The next morning brought brightness as the sun illuminated every single thing in Italy. Mr and Mrs. Watson, along with their son, were eating breakfast outside. Professor Watson was enjoying his café con schiumato and speaking with his wife. John was rejoicing at the taste of his apricot juice and skillfully breaking his soft-boiled egg. Sherlock descended from his room, wearing a white dress shirt with black trousers, with polished dress shoes. He quickly deduced that everyone was outside eating breakfast. Sherlock rolled up his sleeves and stuffed his long pale hands in his pockets. 

Soon, he was faced with the Watson family. “Good morning Professor.” 

“Ah, good morning Sherlock.” Evan smiled at the man. 

Sybil sipped her coffee and smiled happily at Sherlock. “Good morning dear.” 

“Good morning Mrs. Watson.” 

John looked up at Sherlock and didn’t say good morning. Sherlock noticed the immediate change in John’s stance and decided to not speak to the boy. 

Professor Watson faced Sherlock. “Did you rest well?” 

Sherlock took his seat next to Evan. “Yes, I did, thank you.” 

“Well, today you can explore the house, go into town, walk the many fields that provide us tranquility, or take a swim in the back. Anything you want. Tomorrow we can start going over your paper and reviewing my script.” Professor Watson opened his newspaper and began to read the news being provided today. 

“Of course, Professor.” 

Evan faced his son. “If you need help navigating around these parts, John could help you.” 

John finally lifted his gaze from his food and shot an angry glance at his father. He forced a smile, “Sure.” 

Sherlock locked his gaze on John. “Thank you.” 

They continued eating their breakfast in silence until John excused himself from the table and left. John grabbed his loafers and headed for his bike. He pedaled down the lonely road ahead of him and stopped by Greg’s house. Greg was in the pool and smiled as he saw John strolling in, greeting Greg’s parents as always. 

He walked towards the pool and sat on the warm cement surrounding the pool. “Hey Greg.” 

Greg swam towards his friend. “Hey mate. What brings you here?” 

“I can’t stand that bloke.” 

Greg was muddled. “Who?” 

“Sherlock Holmes. Our guest. He’s so rude and ugh. I seriously wonder how I haven’t punched him.” 

His friend laughed. “Well mate, get used to him because he’s going to stay with you for six whole lovely weeks. How fun!” 

John shot him a furious look. “Six bloody weeks of hell.” 

Greg rested his elbows on the side of the pool. “John. Give the guy a chance. Try and get closer to him and maybe his sucky attitude will fade away. You never know, people change.” 

John bit the inside of his cheek and rolled his eyes. “Fine but no promises. I’ll try and see if that dickhead changes.” He wanted to remove his shirt and swim with his friend when Greg’s parents came out and told Greg to get ready for they had to leave. 

Greg huffed in annoyance and told John that he was sorry but he had to go. John smiled and bid farewell to his friend and decided to ride his bike back to B. He enjoyed the peace and tranquility surrounding him, he glanced to the side and saw the soothing movement of the fields dancing with the wind. John stopped as he hopped off his bike and leaned it against a tree while he walked to the middle of the field. He gently rested his body on the soft ground, laying on his back, he rested his head on the grassy bed and closed his eyes as he felt the warm and gentle kiss of the sun. The rays of the sun melted onto John’s skin, he smiled sheepishly as he lost himself into this moment. He only existed here, him laying in a field, the sun rolling off his skin, the sound of the wind blowing against the grass, the gift of solitude. John relished at the feeling of serenity. With his eyes closed, he saw bright orange colors due to the sun hitting him. Then those bright colors changed to black. 

“Hello John.” 

John slowly opened his eyes, his vision was a bit hazy but once they adjusted, he saw a tall man looming over him. 

“Um. Hello Sherlock. How did you find me?” 

Sherlock looked up, “Wasn’t that hard.” 

John thought back to Greg’s words, give the guy a chance. You never never know, people change. He studied the lithe man’s figure and for once, he took his friend’s advice. “You want to lay down with me?” 

Sherlock was shocked by the question. He expected John to say something sassy or spit out words that only symbolized the hate this boy had against Sherlock. “I thought you hated me.” 

John snorted. “Only when you’re a dick.” 

Sherlock quirked his lip in amusement and settled himself next to John. He laid back and closed his eyes, Sherlock didn’t expect to enjoy this placid moment but to his surprise, he did. They remained quiet, eyes closed as the sound of nature filled their ears. John opened his eyes again and turned his head to the side, facing Sherlock. The boy observed the man’s features, _god he was beautiful_ , John had to admit that he liked _this_ Sherlock better, not the arrogant and asshole Sherlock. 

_Maybe_ , he thought, _maybe we could be friends_. 

Maybe.


	2. A Tune Dedicated To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Sherlock a big meanie?

John and Sherlock basked underneath the radiant sun, the golden rays of the shining star lovingly caressed the skins of a tanned boy and a pale man. Time was not an element of importance, the everlasting silence between Sherlock and John could have extended to a longer period of time. Boredom, however, is a sensation that can easily plague the mind, causing the body react in movement. The impulse to rise from the comforting bed of fields was freshly painted into the mind of the blond. John faced the taller man and offered the option to go back home. 

Sherlock accepted the offer, the taller man sprinted himself onto his feet and provided his pale hand to the blond, the action taking John by surprise. The blond took the offered hand and Sherlock helped him onto his feet. They both approached their bikes, individually choosing their designated bicycle and mounting them as they began their soundless trip back to B. 

They both remained serene, John casually pedaled his way ahead, staying in front of Sherlock as he led the way back home. The blond would occasionally look behind him, searching for the taller man’s eyes and bestowing Sherlock with a comforting smile. The taller man lingered behind, letting the boy pedal ahead of him. Sherlock took the chance to observe John closely, new information being offered to him as he privately stored away every detail. His eyes never left the boy’s form and every once in a while, he would offer the blond a small smile whenever John looked behind. 

In a short span of time, they both arrived at B., and calmly, they both parked their bikes in the back. John walked with Sherlock towards the pool, not one word was being spoken between them. They both awkwardly reached the pool and stood around the edges of the pool. 

The blond decided to test the waters, he wanted to see if Sherlock was a good sport. “Can you swim?” 

Sherlock smirked. “Of course.” He decided to show off a bit, penetrating his vision ahead, completely ignoring John. “Ever since —“ 

John skillfully slithered his way behind the taller man and without any mercy, the blond pushed Sherlock into the pool. The taller man yelped in surprise as his body met the touch of the unperturbed water. Sherlock sunk into the water, his fully clothed form was drenched in clear liquid. His clothes keenly stuck onto his body like a frightened child holding onto its mother. 

Sherlock artfully brought himself towards the surface, majestically moving his arms to approach the exterior of the water. He inhaled a breath of air as he swiped his hand across his eyes, removing any water droplets that seemed to cling onto his eye lids. Sherlock’s dark curls were plastered across his forehead, the dark colored strands of hair were forbidding him to see John. 

The taller man removed his curls from his face and glared at the blond boy. “What was that for?!” 

John couldn’t contain his laughter. “I just wanted to see if you’re fun to be with.” The blond crouched down by the pool. 

Sherlock cleverly came closer to the boy. “Am I fun so far?” 

“So far, ye —.” 

The taller man didn’t wait for the boy to finish for he grabbed the blond’s arm and pulled him into the water. This time, it was John’s turn to yelp in shock as he fell into the water, the shimmering splashes caused by the blond’s fall were happily greeting John into the pool. The blond’s clothes were equally soaked as Sherlock’s. The taller man chuckled as he swam back, waiting for John to accompany him above the water. 

The blond enjoyed the few seconds of being submerged underwater, the water surrounding him was lapping against his skin, providing an underwater utopia that always made John feel free. John closed his eyes as he heard the sweet white noise surrounding his ears, gifting him with tranquility. The blond miscalculated the intimate distance between him and Sherlock. When he reached the surface, he was astonished to see that the taller man was inches away from him. 

The two placidly stared at each other for a long moment, Sherlock studied the way each water droplet glistened on the boy’s hair. His tanned skin looked luxurious, the taller man felt that the boy’s skin was an identical twin of a treasure chest filled with gold. John was such a marvelous looking boy, the way his lips were slicked with water made Sherlock realize that his brain was hopelessly begging for him to lean closer and capture those lips with his. 

John took the chance to observe Sherlock as well, he was blown away at the image of Sherlock’s eyes, those brightly colored orbs sparkled in the sun. It made the blond feel like he was looking into a galaxy filled with precious lagoons, the close resemblance to water was magnificent. He noticed that the taller man’s skin was extremely pale, not sickly pale but his skin was equivalent to the source of snow. John liked the idea of Sherlock as a beautiful ocean that housed the entire earth while he mimicked the intensity of the sun, the burning star that gave life and hope to many people. Together, they both coexisted providing beauty and perfection. 

In that split second, the blond found himself believing that Sherlock was the most gorgeous man he’d have ever known. John wondered if someone like him could ever have a man like Sherlock, if Sherlock would be willing to love a boy like him, if it would be possible for them to be… happy. 

The taller man remained emotionless as he continued to look into John’s eyes and possibly his soul. John broke the trance between them and motioned his arms to push him back. “Thanks for pulling me in.” 

Sherlock smiled. “No problem.” 

The taller man playfully swatted his hand, causing waves of water to arise from its calm state and making contact with John’s face. The blond took this as a challenge and with the same amusement, he began to splash water towards Sherlock’s face. They both splashed water towards each other, enjoying the frolicsome atmosphere around them. John decided to make their game a bit more exciting and he swam forward, tackling Sherlock. The taller man predicted the blond’s action and he easily caught John. They both thrashed against the water as Sherlock kept his tight grip around the boy, causing them to chuckle at their silliness. 

Evan from afar, watched the two play around and he coolly approached his son and Sherlock. “Well, this looks fun! You two better get dried off, dinner is almost ready.” 

“Alright dad.” 

The taller man released the blond. “We’ll be right there Professor.” 

Evan smiled as he lit a cigarette and walked away. Sherlock and John climbed out of the pool, leaving behind a stream of water as they entered the house, heading upstairs to change into their dry clothes. Once they were both dressed, John and Sherlock headed downstairs and took their seats at the dinner table. Oddly, the two were getting along very well, Sherlock kept chatting with John as the blond emitted a few laughs from the taller man. 

John was happy to see that him and Sherlock were improving their friendship. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
In the back of B., there was a volleyball game taking place. Greg, Jim, Molly, Sally, Anderson, and Mike were invited to this game, along with other friends. Everyone was playing except for John and Jim, they were both sitting on the grass. There was happiness all around, the image in front of John reminded him of the beach. People huddled together under the sun, every boy was shirtless and every girl was dressed in a bikini. If the grass was replaced by the ocean and sand, then this would have been a perfect beach day. 

From where John was sitting, he could see Greg being very handsy with Molly, and surprisingly, the shy girl seemed to love the attention. The blond felt happy for his friend but for some reason, he wanted Sherlock to join his little group. John looked behind him, stealing a quick glance towards the taller man who was comfortably sitting in a lawn chair while reading a book. The boy was surprised to see Sherlock shirtless, usually he was always covered but not today. The taller man’s pale chest was exposed to everyone and John couldn’t help but observe Sherlock’s broad chest. John had a peculiar urge to run his hands along the smooth pallid skin. 

“John. John.” 

The blond faced Jim. “Yeah. Sorry, I dozed off.” 

“I can see that.” 

“What did I miss?” 

Jim faced the game. “Well, Greg’s team is winning.” The boy faced John. “Hey John, there’s a party going on tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me, like as my date?” 

John turned his attention to Jim and he felt a bit intimidated by the predatory gaze he was receiving from Jim. “Thanks for the invitation but I have to do stuff here. Sorry, maybe next time.” 

Jim offered a tight smile to the blond and returned to enjoying the game. 

From afar, Sherlock was reading his book but his eyes kept traveling towards John’s form. Thanks to his sunglasses, no one would ever think that his gaze was locked onto John. He studied the interaction between John and this so-called Jim. Sherlock didn’t tear his gaze away from the boy until he saw John retrieving a bottle of water and heading towards his way. The taller man returned his attention to his book and waited until John appeared in front of him. Sherlock already knew what the blond was going to ask him. 

John happily approached Sherlock. “Hey Sherlock, do you —“ 

“No.” 

The blond was thrown off by the blunt response. “What?” 

“No.” 

“You didn’t even let me finish my question.” 

Sherlock turned to the next page. “You came to ask me if I wanted to join the game. The answer to your question is no.” 

John felt the puddle of old feelings returning to his head and hate was one of those irritating feelings he had towards Sherlock. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.” 

The taller man made eye contact with the blond, presenting a false smile to him. “I’m simply answering a question that was useless to ask in the first place. Why don’t you go back with Jim? It seems like you two are very close pals.” 

The blond looked back at Jim. “We’re not close pals, he’s just a friend.” 

Sherlock closed the book in irritation, eliciting a sharp slap from the book. “Obviously not. Judging by the way he looks at you, it’s perfectly clear that he wants more than just a friendship with you. Can’t you tell by the way he never seems to leave any part of your skin untouched by his hands. He desperately wants to sleep with you. Also, his posture around you changed for a bit when he asked you a question, probably asking if you wanted to join him somewhere, possibly a party. Surprisingly, you said no and now he’s trying to find an opportunity where he can have you all to himself. Honestly John, can’t you keep up with the people who want to copulate with you?” 

John raised his hands. “How the hell do you know all this? Did someone tell you?” 

The taller man removed his sunglasses. “No one had to tell me. I simply observed.” 

The blond laughed. “You can’t simply observe shit like that.” 

“Actually, I can. I told you before, I’m a high functioning sociopath. I can deduce anyone and anything in front of me. Which is why I know all this information.” 

John scratched the back of his head. “Well, you didn’t have say it like that.” 

“How.” 

“So, rude and unkind, saying that everyone wants to sleep with me. You make me sound like a whore or something.” 

Sherlock snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.” 

John was truly offended. “The fuck is your problem asshole.” 

The taller man stood up, using his height as an advantage. “Look John, out of everyone here, you are honestly the most disappointing person I have ever deduced. How are you the son of a genius like your father, I have no idea. As much as you try, you will never be like your father or even achieve to be at his level. Obviously, you are way below him. You’re so boring and simple, I simply don’t understand why people like you so much. You’re so useless.” 

The blond clenched his fists and thrusted an intense punch towards Sherlock abdomens. “Says the one who’s so rude and very fucking ungrateful. But you know what, what do I know, I’m useless right. So, excuse me Mr. Holmes for bothering you with my presence. Obviously, you’re too in love with your arrogant self, which is pathetic for someone of your standard. You’re so up your own ass, that you are completely unaware that people like me have feelings but of course, you wouldn’t understand what feelings are since you’re so fucking cold hearted. No wonder you have zero friends and it’s not surprising to believe that people hate you. For your well-being, I hope you go back to hell and die there.” John took his leave, leaving Sherlock groaning in pain and clutching his abdomens. 

Even though, Sherlock was in pain, he was shocked at the boy’s words. John entered the house and came out with his bike, he furiously left B., not wanting to deal with the taller man’s presence. 

Sucking up the pain, Sherlock laid back in his chair and placed on his sunglasses as he continued reading his book. 

The day passed by slowly, the sun enjoyed its extra time shining in the sky until the moon sassily pushed the sun away. The ivory moon made its appearance and shined its beautiful angelic rays towards earth. Sherlock was sitting at the dinner table when his Professor announced that John wouldn’t be eating dinner with them. The taller man looked at the empty seat next to him and smiled at his hosts as he dug into his food. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Friends of John’s parents came to visit, everyone was outside enjoying a loud and boisterous chat. John had a pair of bright red shorts and his upper torso was bare, as always. The blond was sitting at a bench, away from his family as he plucked the firm strings belonging to his guitar. He played a soft tune, a lovely sound that provided tranquility to the body. John was still angry at Sherlock but at this point, he didn’t care anymore. The blond was very good at ignoring those who seriously pissed him off. With great progress, he’s ignored Sherlock for two days straight. He never looked at the taller man when he passed by, he’s ignored Sherlock’s pleas for help, and he purposefully stirred away from running into Sherlock. 

God, how John wished these six weeks would fly by quickly. 

He continued playing the gentle melody, tuning out the world around him. 

Sherlock came down the stairs, greeting Evan and Sybil when he heard the barely audible tune playing, Bach? The taller man followed his ears and he saw John sitting on a bench, playing a guitar. Today, Sherlock wore his tight black trousers with a billowy light blue dress shirt. He stuffed his pale hands into his pockets and soundlessly made his way to John. 

The blond closed his eyes as he felt the music running through his veins and the vibrations of the strings resonating through his fingers. 

“Bach, isn’t it?” Sherlock asked. 

John stopped playing the instrument as he faced Sherlock. He rolled his eyes as he lifted himself from his seat, leaving his guitar on the bench. John made his way inside the house, going straight to the piano. Sherlock watched as the boy left, his gaze settled on the abandoned guitar and unknowingly, he followed the blond inside. The taller man knew that he insulted the boy but he didn’t expect John to hold a grudge towards him. 

The blond sat up straight and closed his eyes as he played the same melody from his guitar onto the piano. He played the tune slightly different, making the melody sound more vibrant, alive, and happy unlike the calm tune he played outside. 

Sherlock heard the new music being poured from the living room and smiled as he realized that the blond changed the tune. “Did you change it?” 

John opened his eyes and huffed in annoyance. “Why do you care?” 

The taller man shrugged. “It’s a simple question, John.” 

“Just because you asked me a question, doesn’t mean that I have answer it.” 

Sherlock discovered that he didn’t like it when the blond was mad at him. “You’re still angry then?” 

The blond snorted. “You barely noticed that. I thought you deduced shit like this.” 

The taller man leaned against the door frame. “What do people usually say in these delicate situations?” 

John made an exaggerated thinking stance. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess an apology would work but judging by that pig-headed skull of yours, you probably wouldn’t understand how to even form an apology.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Apologies are stupid.” 

The blond faced the taller man. “Then why the fuck are you here, Mr. Holmes?” 

The taller man held an intense gaze on the boy. “Fine. I’m sorry for what I said.” 

John chuckled. “You have to actually mean an apology.” 

“This is ridiculous.” 

The blond waved his hand, dismissing Sherlock. “Then leave, Mr. Holmes.” 

Sherlock snapped at the new name John called him. “Stop calling me, Mr. Holmes!” 

John couldn’t contain his smile. “Then apology properly.” The taller man placed his hands on his hips. The blond lifted his eyebrow. “You know, for a grown man, you’re acting pretty childish.” 

The taller man angrily faced the boy as he began pacing. The blond watched Sherlock pace the room as he patiently waited for the taller man to apologize. 

Sherlock stopped pacing and looked into John’s eyes. “John, I’m truly sorry for insulting you. I didn’t mean to use those words against you. Please forgive me.” 

John faced piano, “Thanks for your apology.” 

“Now its your turn.” 

John faced Sherlock in confusion. “What?” 

“You insulted me as well and you hit me. I deserve an apology.” 

The blond laughed. “You deserved to be insulted and you were begging to be punched. I’m not apologizing to you.” 

“Who’s acting childish now?” Sherlock smirked. 

John sucked in a lungful of air, “I’m sorry for insulting you. I didn’t mean any of it. Well, half of what I said is true but other than that, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for punching you.” 

The taller man smiled. “Apology accepted.” 

The blond shook his head. “You git.” 

“My question still remains unanswered.” 

John gave Sherlock a puzzled look. “What question?” 

“Did you change the tune of the song? I’ve heard many pieces belonging to Bach but I’m not quite familiar with this piece you played outside. I remember snippets of it but it sounded different when you played it on the piano.” 

“I changed it a little bit.” 

Sherlock placed his hand on the door frame. “Why?” 

“I just played it the way Liszt would have played it, if he’d altered Bach’s version.” 

“Play that again.” 

John innocently questioned the taller man. “Play what again?” 

“The thing you played outside.” 

The blond pointed past Sherlock. “Oh, you want me play the thing I played outside?” 

Sherlock exhaled. “Please.” 

“Ah, of course.” 

John skillfully played the tune again, his fingers magically replicating the melody he played before, except this time, the tune was more dramatic, enticing, and bone-chilling. The music sounded like a script meant for a German opera. With a theatrical ending, the blond played the last notes and proudly faced Sherlock. 

“I can’t believe you changed it again.” 

John shrugged. “Oh, I change it a little bit.” 

“Yes. Why?” 

“I just played it the way Busoni would’ve played it if he altered Liszt’s version.” 

Sherlock wasn’t comprehending why the blond kept changing the tune. “And what is wrong with Bach the way Bach would’ve played…” 

“Bach never wrote it for the guitar. In fact, we’re not even sure if Bach wrote it at all.” 

The taller man gave up and threw his hands in the air. “Obviously you won’t play the tune you played outside. Forget I asked.” He began to walk away. 

The blond smiled as he began to play the calm melody, it rippled through the room like water. Each note was benign and angelic, the softness of the tune recaptured Sherlock’s attention again. The taller man appeared at the doorway once more as he witnessed John playing. He strolled across the room to sit in an armchair as he marveled at the sound leaking from the piano. The taller man took the opportunity to witness the way John’s muscles flexed as he moved his arms across the piano. 

John finished the last note with such purity. “It’s young Bach. He dedicated it to his brother.” 

“That’s quite a beautiful tune. He must’ve really loved his brother.” 

The blond whirled around, capturing Sherlock’s gaze. As much as Sherlock irritated him at times or the way he made John want to smash his face against a wall, the blond couldn’t deny that there was an unknown feeling growing for this man. He wasn’t sure what this new feeling was but he was willing to find out what this feeling was called. “Yeah. He did.” 

Unknown to John, Sherlock read him like a book and the taller man was surprised to admit to himself, that he shared the same feeling towards John.


	3. The Ghostly Remnants Of Your Touch On My Skin

Since the amendment between the boy and the foreigner, things at B. began to flow easily, like water under the bridge. 

John minded his own business, visiting Greg whenever he felt like it, composing new music that reflected his happy state, and encountering Sherlock in every corner belonging to B. 

Sherlock helped Professor Watson with his manuscript, cataloguing different files that housed an array of papers dealing with Chemistry. 

The ambiance between the two were as calm as unperturbed water, simply swaying against the invisible touch of the wind. 

Sherlock enjoyed the fresh commencement with the boy, happily accepting their clean slate and trying his best to not anger John again. Everything began to fall in place, like pieces of a puzzle creating an image. 

Occasionally, Sherlock would appear out of nowhere, never announcing his presence to the boy. John would always be startled by the sudden appearance of Sherlock Holmes right beside him. Oddly, whenever the boy played the piano, it was usually the time when Sherlock would appear, like a bunny waiting to emerge from a magician’s hat. 

“Why do you always appear when I play the piano?” 

Sherlock smirked. “Maybe because I have an ear for well composed music.” 

John laughed. “Is that a compliment from the great Sherlock Holmes?” 

Sherlock shrugged. “Take it however you want it.” 

The boy snorted. “You want to learn?” 

“Sorry.” 

John gestured towards the piano. “Do you want to learn how to play the piano?” 

Sherlock eyed the boy in suspicion. “And what would be the purpose of this?” 

“You get to learn how to play a new instrument.” 

Sherlock made a confused face. “Why would I want to learn how to play an instrument when I can teach myself at any convenient time presented to me?” 

John huffed in annoyance, not believing what he was hearing. “You fucking cock. Fine, I’m simply offering to be nice to you but every time I do, I’m met with your attitude going all berserk.” The boy faced the piano again. “Its like, every time I try to get close to you, you push me away.” 

Sherlock analyzed the words being spoken to him. “Does it ever occur to you that there might be a reason why I don’t let people get close to me?” 

John began to play. “What would be the harm in letting me in?” 

Sherlock eyed the boy for a long minute, listening to the euphonious melody pouring inside his ears. He slowly approached John, his hand ghosting over the boy’s exposed neck, not fully touching him. “Move aside.” 

John looked up. “Why?” 

“How are you going to teach me if you’re taking up the whole bench?” 

The boy smiled and slid across the bench, making room for Sherlock to sit. Sherlock rolled up his sleeves, double checking that his tight purple dress shirt wouldn’t get in the way of his hands while touching the keys to the piano. “So, where do we start?” 

John began to teach Sherlock how to play the piano, it was… a surreal experience. This was the only moment where there were no disagreements between the two or arguments being formed against each other or even insults directed towards one another. They were working together, like the tiny pieces that work in sync to make a clock run. 

Sherlock was a quick learner, copying the movements of the boy’s fingers, replicating the same melodies that emitted from John’s touch. Sherlock was surprised to discover that he enjoyed the intimate interaction between him and the boy. He would constantly steal glances at John, taking in the newly detected details that belonged to the boy and storing them in his mind palace. Like a defeated country, the walls that Sherlock built for himself, were slowly, so slowly crumbling down. 

John never noticed Sherlock watching him so closely, for he was too entranced in observing Sherlock’s hands. He studied how the long pale fingers glided over each key responsible for creating a new sound and the boy wondered what else those fingers could do. It took John a while to realize that the tune Sherlock was playing, was a bit too harsh. 

“Gently.” 

Sherlock continued to play. “I am.” 

The boy chuckled. “That’s not gentle, your playing as if you’re in a rush.” 

“I’m not rushing.” 

John rolled his eyes, “Here.” The boy placed his hands-on Sherlock’s. “Like this.” 

John guided Sherlock’s hands, his warmth coming in contact with Sherlock’s. Then Sherlock noticed that the tune he was playing before, was now softer, quieter. 

The boy smiled. “See. There’s a difference.” 

Sherlock nodded and took in the existence of how close John was to him. Sherlock looked to the side and faced John. The boy realized that Sherlock stopped playing and with a questioning look forming on his face, John looked up and he was met with piercing lagoon eyes. He felt Sherlock making small circles with his thumb over the boy’s wrist. John took controlled breaths and allowed his eyes to fall down towards Sherlock’s lips. Then his eyes travelled down to Sherlock’s neck, where he noticed a necklace resting against Sherlock’s pale collarbones. 

The necklace was the Star of David. 

Sherlock immediately noticed the boy’s eyes fall down to his lips, _good, we are on the same track_. Then he noticed John’s eyes going lower, _what do I have that captured John’s attention?_ Sherlock looked down and noticed that his gold necklace was peeking through his shirt. _Ah_. 

“It was my mother’s.” 

The boy looked up and slyly removed his hands from Sherlock’s grip. “I didn’t take you as a religious person.” 

“I’m not. My mother was a firm believer, a true Jewish woman. She taught me and brother about the religion, pointing out the significance of it. As a child, I didn’t understand the meaning of my mother’s beliefs and regarded them as useless. When I grew up, I somewhat understood her loyalty to this religion but never cared for it. My mother never forced us to convert but every once in a while, she’d lecture us about her beliefs. Then when she died, it was such a huge shock to me, my brother, and father. Since her death, my father converted himself to become Jewish, to sort of preserve my mother’s memory. Then in her will, she left this for me.” Sherlock held the star in between his thumb and index finger. “She stated that if I were to wear it, she’ll always be with me and her loving beliefs will guide me to my destiny, coming to a conclusion that her beliefs will never die.” 

John smiled. “Its good to know.” 

Sherlock faced the boy. “Know what?” 

“That a dick like you is capable of feeing sentiment.” 

Sherlock scrunched his nose in disgust. “Sentiment. How boring. But then again, she was my mother, so, I suppose I have some right to experience sentiment.” 

“Well, its nice to know that you can experience emotions and feelings.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yeah. It is. It shows me that not all hope is lost.” 

Sherlock didn’t know what to say, he was never good when it came to conversations such as these. “Well, thank you for the lesson. I should probably go and help your father.” 

The boy bit the inside of his cheek and faced the piano. “No problem.” 

“Later.” With that, the taller man left. 

John nodded and stared at the piano, observing the keys that Sherlock touched only moments ago. The boy placed his fingers on the keys that Sherlock touched, mixing their fingerprints together, trying to somehow connect their touch again. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock woke up early the next morning, getting dressed and heading downstairs. The cold greeting of the breeze outside heightened his senses for a bit. He breathed in a lungful of air and went towards his bike. 

John heard Sherlock getting up and he couldn’t help but wonder where Sherlock was going. Since yesterday, the boy realized that he enjoyed the company of the taller man. But he didn’t want to seem clingy, at least he hoped he didn’t seem clingy. 

Fuck. 

He hated feeling like this. 

Well, life’s too fucking short and John could do whatever the fuck he wanted to do, he’ll simply ask Sherlock if he wants company, if not then oh well. 

The boy ran to his window and caught the sight of Sherlock throwing his backpack onto his shoulders and mounting his bike. “Do you want some company?!” John shouted from the window. 

Sherlock looked up at the familiar voice and smiled. “Aren’t you tired of me already?” 

“Sometimes.” 

The taller man chuckled. “Well, a guide would be helpful. If you can get dressed in five minutes, you can join me.” 

“Consider it done.” 

The boy quickly threw on green shorts, a dark blue plaid shirt and dark brown loafers. He made his way downstairs and grabbed a book before joining Sherlock outside. 

The taller man looked at his watch. “Three minutes and sixteen seconds. Not bad.” 

“Thanks.” John jumped on his bike. “Where too?” 

“Someplace where we could sit.” 

The boy knew where they could go. “Come on.” 

John and Sherlock began to bike towards their destination, the hollow sounds of the wind blowing across their faces was a harmonious sensation. The silence of the repetitive circular motion that was created by their legs as they pedaled their bikes forward was an alternative peaceful sound. 

It was… a serene morning, the boy stayed ahead, leading the way while the taller man remained behind. Sherlock couldn’t stop observing John, the boy was proving to surprise Sherlock everyday. 

Then Sherlock noticed that John was leading them towards narrow streets, turning corners every once in a while, coming closer to their destination which was still unknown to the taller man. Then the boy led them towards a wide plaza that was surrounded by a cathedral made with bricks and small cafes at every corner. 

John stopped his bike. “Welcome to Crema.” 

Sherlock eyed the abandoned area, it was placid and it lacked people, just to his liking. About two to three people appeared every thirty minutes. 

The boy parked his bike and ushered the taller man to do the same. John told Sherlock to take a seat at a rounded table outside while the boy went inside a café. Sherlock observed the bright sun hitting his face and placed his shades on as he took out the papers inside his backpack. He needed to edit these papers. Sherlock started to revise each paper when John came back. 

“For you.” The boy held out a gelato that he bought for Sherlock and himself. 

“Thank you.” 

John smiled and sat across from Sherlock as he placed on his shades while opening his book. He enjoyed his gelato as he began to read. 

They remained quiet for a bit, Sherlock was writing and scribbling out words with his pen while the boy flipped through every page of his book, enjoying the plot while unconsciously, covering his face with the book. 

“So, what does one do around here?” Sherlock asked. 

“Wait for summer to end.” 

The taller man snorted. “What do you do in the winter? Let me guess, wait for summer to come.” 

John lowered his book and smiled. “Well, we usually come here for Christmas and —“ 

“I thought you were Jewish.” 

“Well, we are but we’re also Italian, French, and English, somewhat a typical combination. Besides my family, you’re probably the only other Jew to ever step foot into this town.” 

“How comforting.” Sherlock placed his pen down. “So, you speak Italian and French?” 

“Oui.” 

The taller man smiled. “You’re fluent in both, I imagine.” 

“Ovviamente.” (Of course)

Sherlock eyed his papers. “So, what do you do around here?” 

The boy took off his shades. “Read, transcribe music, go out at night, swim at the lake, I don’t know.” 

“Sounds time consuming.” The taller man made his last correction to the remaining page on the table. “Right, shall we go home.” 

John nodded and couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips as he heard Sherlock say home as if he always belonged there. The boy held his book in one hand while he approached his bike. The taller man tossed his backpack onto his shoulders and went to mount his bike. 

John threw one leg over his bicycle and tried to balance himself with a book in hand while trying to hold on to his bike. But he couldn’t hold onto the handle of the bicycle properly, which caused him to fall towards Sherlock’s side. The taller man noticed the boy falling towards his side and he extended a pale hand to John’s shoulder. 

“Woah. Sorry about that.” 

Sherlock briefly eyed the exposed skin belonging to the boy’s neck. “No problem.” 

They both managed to properly sit on their bikes and Sherlock faced John. “Shall we.” 

“After you.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Once they got home, Sherlock excused himself to go to his room while John remained downstairs. 

Sherlock began to sort his papers for Professor Watson to read and made last minute edits before arranging his papers in order. 

The boy was in the library, reading poetry written in Italian. He was minding his own business when he heard his father and Sherlock coming towards the library. John looked up and smiled at his father and Sherlock before returning to the book in his hands. He was completely engrossed by the book that he didn’t notice his mother appearing. She was seated on a couch across from the boy while reading the newspaper. 

Finally, John looked up and acknowledged his mother before she disappeared towards the kitchen. His concentration was undisturbed until he heard Sherlock and his father talking. 

Evan Watson was looking through his files, not knowing where the heck he should start, all his pages belonging to his manuscript were scattered all over the place. He pulled out the wrong pages from a file and lifted his hands up, “Ah!” Professor Watson chuckled at his messiness and approached Sherlock, “Which are these?” 

The taller man had a bunch of papers in his hands, “These are the continuation of these and —“ 

The boy looked up in time to see his mother coming into the library with a tray of glasses filled with apricot juice. She placed it on a table and ushered John to get a glass of apricot juice. 

Sherlock grabbed a glass and once his tongue tasted the thick creamy substance, he couldn’t help but consume the entire drink. The boy noticed Sherlock drinking the entire juice and he couldn’t help but notice Sherlock’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Once the taller man finished his drink, he studied the empty glass and wondered how something could taste that good. 

“The word apricot comes from the Arabic, it’s like the word’s _algebra, alchemy_ and _alcohol_. It derives from an Arabic noun combined with the Arabic article “ _al_ ” before it. The origin of our Italian _albicocca_ was _al-barquq_.” Professor Watson faced his son and winked at him as he continued talking. “Its amazing that today in Israel and many Arabic countries the fruit is referred to by a totally different name: _mishmish_.” 

Sherlock listened very carefully to the words being spoken by his professor. Although it was obvious that the man studied Chemistry, Professor Watson had a passion for archaeology and it was no surprise to Sherlock that his professor brought up this discussion. Luckily enough, Sherlock took a course in Philology. 

But Sherlock had to speak his mind about the subject Professor Watson brought up, “I may have to disagree with you Professor.” 

Professor Watson lifted his eyebrows. “Oh.” 

“I’m going to talk about etymology, so bear with me a second.” Sherlock faced John and gave him a confident smile before he faced the professor. “You’re right in the case that most Latin words do find their origins in Greek words. However, in the case of “apricot” it’s a little bit more of a complicated journey.” 

“Ah. How so?” 

Sherlock smirked. “Well, here, the Greek actually takes over from the Latin. Latin word being _praecoquum_ or _precoquere_. So, it’s, “precook” or “pre-ripen,” as you know. To be precocious or premature.” 

John had to resist the smile tugging at his lips but he managed to keep a straight face as Sherlock continued speaking, widening his eyes in surprise at the information being provided by Sherlock. 

“And the Byzantines, to go on, then borrowed _praecox_ , which became _prekokkia_ , which then became _berokokki_ , which is how the Arabs got _al-barquq_.” Sherlock smiled in triumphant and went back to scanning over the pages he had in his hands while taking a seat next to Mrs. Watson. 

Sybil eyed her husband as Evan winked at her, then he faced John, giving the boy a bright smile as John kept his soft chuckles to himself. 

The atmosphere was quiet and that caused Sherlock to look up, facing Professor Watson, who was smiling at him. “That’s courtesy of Philology 101.” 

Professor Watson directed a cross he made with his fingers in the air to Sherlock. “Flying colors.” 

Evan exited the library, leaving Sherlock confused. Sherlock faced John, silently asking what the heck just happened. 

The boy beamed brightly, “He does this every year.” 

Sherlock opened his mouth in a ‘oh’ fashion and couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The entire day stretched into an oblong shape of hours, hours which were consumed by minutes and minutes were being devoured by seconds. After a long wait, like the ones experienced in traffic, night arrived. 

Greg came over and invited John to a party, the boy was hesitant at first, but after a dreary argument with Greg, John gave in and went to the party. 

He was sitting at a round table with Greg, Molly, Anderson, Donovan, Stamford and Jim. 

The dance floor was full of young people dancing, there were red, pink, and yellow lights beaming everywhere, making the party look like a crazy disco joint. The party was outdoors, John was sitting at the edge of the table, facing the dance floor as he smoked a cigarette while drinking. 

Greg and Molly were hitting it off but for some reason, Jim paid no attention to John for his interest was settled on the new addition to their group, a boy named Sebastian Moran. Mike introduced him to their little group and Sebastian became friends with everyone. Molly brought a new friend as well and her name was Irene Adler. Irene got along with everyone but kept to herself. 

It seemed that Jim and Sebastian were getting along really well, they haven’t left each other’s side the entire night, they were stuck together like honey. Sebastian obviously wanted Jim and Jim definitely wanted to get fucked by Sebastian. 

Aside from Sebastian and Jim, Mike was chatting with another addition to their group, who was named Stephen Bainbridge. 

Everyone was chatting away except for John; the boy’s interest was elsewhere until the music being played at the party was making its way to his ears. That’s when he noticed Jim and Sebastian on the dance floor, Sebastian was holding onto Jim’s waist as they swayed from one side to another. Jim had his hands wrapped around Sebastian’s neck and everyone at the table kept wolf whistling at them. Then Sebastian leaned down and kissed Jim’s lips. 

Everyone yelled loudly at the success of Jim finally getting together with someone. 

John watched the interaction closely, he inhaled the smoke of the cigarette and puffed it out into the air, forming small clouds around him. Which then evaporated into thin air. 

Sebastian was getting handsy, squeezing Jim’s bum and grinding their bodies together. 

John watched the way their bodies were rubbing against one another and for some odd reason, he imagined Sherlock and him being close to each other to the point where John could feel Sherlock’s lips on his. He could even feel their skins evaporating into one touch. 

John flicked the end of his cigarette and finished his drink. 

Then the music changed and the song ‘Love My Way’ by The Psychedelic Furs began to play. Greg and Molly went to the dance floor, which prompted everyone else to go on the dance floor. Even Irene, who was quiet most of the time, went to the dance floor and found herself dancing with another girl. 

John was left behind, he really didn’t feel like spending another minute at this party, so he stubbed out his cigarette and quietly slipped away from the party. He walked into the night, his hands were in his pockets as he made his way back home. John came across a glimmering lake and decided to climb down the short hill that housed the entire lake. He perched himself on a pile of smooth rocks and took out his packet of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a deep drag. 

John took in the stillness of the night, everything surrounding him was pitch black, save for the orange glow that came from his cigarette. The boy closed his eyes and breathed in the tar that traveled inside his lungs. 

“Never took you as a smoker.” 

John turned around and was met with long legs covered by black trousers. He looked up at Sherlock, “I thought you deduced that little detail about me already.” 

“You didn’t offer any indication that you smoked.” 

The boy chuckled, “How did you find me?” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Then how is it that we stumbled upon each other? Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “As much as you fancy yourself, I’m not one to stalk. I simply decided to take a walk when I noticed the light from your cigarette glowing and the unmistakable silhouette that only belongs to you. I thought saying hello would be appropriate.” 

“Well, hello.” 

“Hello.” 

“Want a cigarette?” John offered. 

Sherlock looked at the packet in John’s hands and bit the inside of his cheek. “Technically.” Sherlock lifted his sleeve and showed the boy three nicotine patches on his arm. “I’m quitting.” 

John quirked his eyebrow. “So, that’s a no.” 

“Not technically.” Sherlock covered his arm. “One wouldn’t hurt.” 

John patted the smooth rock next to him. “Want to sit with me?” 

“Why not.” 

Sherlock sat down and stretched his long legs as John opened his packet of cigarettes and offered one to Sherlock. The boy took out his lighter and lit the end of Sherlock’s cigarette. Then Sherlock took a deep drag and closed his eyes at the beautiful taste that he’s been craving for since he left London. 

“That’s really lovely. Its not low tar.” 

John smiled, “Yeah, here in Italy we have good genuine shit.” 

The two smoked in silence, breathing in and exhaling at different times, enjoying their cigarette. 

“So, why did you leave the party?” 

John faced Sherlock, “Did you ask my parents if I went to a party?” 

“No, a very fascinating squirrel came up to me and told me. Honestly John, you keep forgetting that I can deduce people. Obviously, no one had to tell me if you were at a party or not.” 

The boy tapped the end of his cigarette. “Right. I don’t know. I didn’t feel like staying there.” 

“I thought you were the social kind.” 

John snorted, “You can say that but deep down inside this beautiful body, I just like being in places where people cease to exist. Like right now, I’d rather be here looking at a lake then being at party with people.” 

“So, you’re unattached.” 

The boy nodded. 

Sherlock puffed out a cloud of smoke, “Like me.” 

John faced Sherlock, “Yeah, I guess.” 

Sherlock smiled and returned his gaze to the lake. 

John kept repeating the words that Sherlock said in his mind and lowered his head as he smiled. “Want to go for a swim?” 

“At this time of night?” 

“Yeah.” The boy stood up. “Right now.” 

Sherlock watched as John removed his shirt. “Won’t we catch pneumonia?” 

With the cigarette still in John’s mouth, the boy removed his shirt and tossed it to the side as he unzipped his pants. “Of course not. Where’s your sense of adventure?” The boy was left in his briefs and he stubbed out his cigarette. 

“You’re really going to go inside the water, aren’t you?” 

“Hell yeah.” John leapt from the rock and jumped into the water. The boy came up to the surface and chuckled. “Come on! Live a little!” 

Sherlock stubbed out his cigarette and warily removed his clothes, once he was bare with only his briefs on, he looked at John and jumped inside the water. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
After their eventful swim, Sherlock and John began to head back home. They were carrying their shoes and clothes in their hands. Since they emerged from the water, their bodies were wet and they decided not to dampen their clothes. Walking in their soaked briefs, they entered B. and headed upstairs. 

“Thank you.” 

John was about to open the door to his room when he heard Sherlock, “For what?” 

“For the swim. It was relaxing.” 

The boy smiled. “You’re welcome.” 

With that, they both entered their rooms, closing their doors behind them. John dumped his clothes on his chair and threw his shoes on the floor. He entered the bathroom that he shared with Sherlock and took a quick shower before he changed into a fresh pair of boxers. John face-planted his bed and groaned loudly. He slowly felt his eyelids becoming heavy and in a matter of minutes, he was asleep. 

Four hours passed by and Sherlock wasn’t able to go to sleep. He lifted himself from his bed and went towards the bathroom. Quietly, he opened the door that led to John’s bedroom and he was met with a sleeping form that belonged to John. The boy was shirtless and laying on his tummy. Sherlock closed the door behind him and stood completely still in the dark, observing the boy. 

Sherlock wasn’t really sure why he was inside John’s bedroom, he wasn’t even sure what these feelings for John meant to him. He’s never felt anything like this for a person before, but feelings were boring, sentiment was useless, love was a distraction. 

Yet. 

Why did this ordinary boy surpass all that? Why was John an exception? Why was John fascinating to him? Why was John the only person who could make him smile? 

The answer to all those questions was simple. 

Sherlock didn’t know how to answer those questions. 

Sherlock was for once… stumped. He approached the bed as his eyes surveyed John’s exposed torso. Slowly, Sherlock placed his hands at either side of John’s legs and he began to crawl on top of the boy. He managed not to disrupt the boy’s sleep as his entire body covered John’s. Sherlock kept a few inches of space between him and John’s body. 

He studied John’s tanned skin and lowered his mouth to the boy’s neck. His lips ghosted over John’s skin and Sherlock closed his eyes as he smelled the boy. John smelled like home, like warmth that was never present in Sherlock’s life. Sherlock felt his body tensing as he felt the huge impulse to have this boy. 

Then he realized that he was losing his mind. 

This wasn’t right. 

Sherlock removed himself from John’s sleeping form and took one last look at the boy before disappearing back into his room. 

Unknown to Sherlock, John felt the taller man looming over his body and to the boy’s surprise, he wondered why Sherlock didn’t touch him or kiss him. And even more surprising to John, why didn’t he put up a fight with Sherlock? Why didn’t he stop Sherlock? Why did he let the man crawl over him? 

The answer to those questions was quite simple. 

The answer is… actually… John didn’t have any answers to those questions either.


	4. The Ocean Without His Sand

Confusion, awkwardness, and uncouth. 

Three emotions that collided together to make a disastrous mess. A mess that annoyed John beyond belief. 

Since the night of Sherlock encompassing the boy’s body with his, things have unfolded in an ugly manner. 

Sherlock became cold again like the ever-biting wind that freezes our bodies, never once providing an opportunity to become warm. He would pass by John, asking help whenever he needed it and kept the conversation short. 

The boy didn’t understand what the fuck was happening. 

The other night when they swam together, things were perfect like the dance that exists between the ocean and the sand. Without the sand, the ocean wouldn’t have any purchase to hold onto, no area where the water could dampen the sand to leave its mark. 

Without the ocean, the sand would remain motionless, not one single drop of water would satisfy its quenching thirst. That’s how it felt that night, Sherlock was the ocean, blue and mysterious. And John was the sand, warm and golden. 

Yet, how could things become so confusing. 

The boy wouldn’t deny the existing heat that roamed over his body as he remembered Sherlock’s form over his. Yes, it was an odd moment but John really thought that maybe… just maybe… the existence of becoming more than Sherlock’s friend could happen. But like a fly that keeps annoying a person’s day, his expectation was squashed. 

The boy didn’t understand the game Sherlock was playing. He honestly tried to see where Sherlock was going with their friendship but like the struggle of a student who experiences being stuck on a certain problem, he couldn’t figure it out. 

But John was not easily defeated, at least physically. He placed on his serious face and treated Sherlock the way he was being treated. The boy didn’t glance up when Sherlock brushed past him, he paid little attention when the overheard conversations between Sherlock and his father reached his ears, and he absolutely ignored the presence of Sherlock whenever he walked past his room or entered the bathroom. 

John didn’t understand what was happening to him. Why was he so affected by this? 

What the actual fuck? 

Never once did he crave to be the center of attention but now, with Sherlock around, he wanted to be Sherlock’s entire universe. Sure, he barely knew the man but there was a spark in between them that even the gods couldn’t ignore. The boy could feel it, it was a warm intuition inside his stomach, like butterflies flapping about. 

Then John thought back to that night, was it a sign that he missed? 

Well, the situation could be analyzed, of course. 

As the boy floated on his back in the pool, water beneath him, he slowly let himself sink into the water. 

John closed his eyes and stayed underwater as he tried to crack this problem. Sherlock entered his room that night and the man crawled all over him, the boy could sense that Sherlock wanted to touch him but the man held himself back. 

Why? 

Was Sherlock not interested in him? Did he not fancy the same sex? Was it the seven-year gap between their age? Was it that John wasn’t his type? What the hell was it?! 

Then the boy came to a conclusion, maybe Sherlock regretted what he did and realized that John wasn’t worth his time. Of course, if Sherlock stayed a bit longer then this situation could be interpreted in a different manner but no, the man stayed for a bit and left. And due to the man leaving so abruptly, maybe Sherlock decided that to show his disinterest in the boy, acting like the heartless man he met in the beginning. Constantly stinging John with his frigid looks and uncouth comments. 

That’s it. 

The boy finally cracked the problem. Now he knew where he stood, he was just a person who needed to deal with Sherlock’s presence for six weeks and once these long weeks were over, the man would go back to London and John would stay in Italy, forgetting at one point that Sherlock came to stay at his home. 

Well, the boy didn’t care. Besides, Sherlock was a hopeless cause. He should have seen it from the very beginning but… John thought back to Sherlock’s personality. 

Whenever Sherlock was around the boy’s parents, the man was suave, charming, and resembling Mr Perfect. But when he stayed by John’s side, the man had flaws, the boy was capable of making the man smile and above all that, they had a connection most of time that could not be severed, not even with a knife. 

Was it all for show? Did Sherlock act a specific way just to maintain the respect he had for the people who allowed him to stay at their home for the summer? Perhaps. 

The boy gave up on hoping and emerged from the water, disrupting the calm state of the clear liquid surrounding him as he ran his hand over his face, clearing any water droplets that clung to his skin. When he opened his eyes, he was met with ice cold orbs observing him. 

Sherlock was passing by the pool, reading over his paper when he heard a loud splash to his right and that’s when he saw John out of breath, it seemed as if the boy was holding his breath underwater for a long period of time. 

They both stared at each other, not saying a single word. 

“If you were trying to kill yourself, I suggest staying underwater a bit longer.” Sherlock returned his concentration to the paper in his hands and walked away. 

John clenched his fists. “If you were trying to break your neck, I suggest you trip over something and get on with it!” 

Sherlock heard the crude comment and turned around to glare at the boy but John decided to emerge himself underwater again and spare himself from seeing that stupid twat of a man. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“What the hell do you want?” 

Mycroft chuckled. “Is that how you answer your dear brother on the phone?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to doing his experiment. “What do you want Mycroft?” 

“I wanted to know how you are holding up in Italy.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Of course, I don’t. But there’s something I am concerned about.” 

Sherlock groaned. “What are you concerned about?” 

“The boy that’s staying in that house. John Watson.” 

“Yes. What about him?” 

Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh. “Honestly Sherlock, do you think you can hide everything from me? You may be in Italy but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have eyes on you. You are starting to acquire… feelings for this boy.” 

Sherlock froze and looked at the empty space in front of him. “No, I’m not.” 

“Oh please, don’t you think I know about the little trip you made to his bedroom and you were this close to doing god knows what with him.” 

“Honestly Mycroft, how many minions do you have snooping on me? If I remember correctly, I came to Italy to learn something but also to escape your nosey fat face.” 

Mycroft became serious. “Sherlock. I’m serious. You will not involve that boy in your life. He’s young and apparently, he has a bright future waiting for him. Are you honestly going to ruin his life just because you find something attractive in him?” 

“Nothing happened, Mycroft. And stop treating me like a child. He’s basically a man already and he could make any decision that he wants. If he wants to be involved with me, then that’s his choice. I will not pressure him into anything.” 

Mycroft smacked his forehead. “Can you even listen to what you are saying? You are already involved with him. I can hear the endearment dripping from your lips.” 

“Involved. I’m not involved.” 

“Proceed with caution, brother mine. You know that if you involve yourself with this boy, he will end up broken hearted. Things won’t end well, spare the boy from the future of pain that you’ll bring to him. John does not deserve to have you and you don’t deserve to have him.” 

Sherlock took in the words spoken by his brother and with an emotionless reaction, he said. “How do you know that we don’t deserve each other? Is it a surprise to learn that I may have… stirrings for this boy?” 

“So, you admit that have sentiment towards him.” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Sherlock, just don’t.” With that, Mycroft ended their call. 

Sherlock flung his phone across the room and groaned in anger, he took four deep breaths and lifted himself from his seat. He went towards his window and that’s when he saw John mounting his bike and pedaling away from B. Sherlock watched as the boy became smaller and smaller to the eye, then at one point, John’s form disappeared. 

In a low whisper, Sherlock asked himself. “Am I involved?” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John and Greg met up at a nearby bar in town, they hadn’t seen each other since the party and it seemed nice to catch up on anything they missed. Plus, John didn’t want to stay home, not with that prick walking around and ruining his mood. 

“How’s it with you and Molly?” The boy asked. 

Greg took a sip of his drink. “We had sex.” 

John choked on his drink and stared at Greg with astonished wide eyes. “What? When? How? Where?” 

Greg chuckled. “So many questions. Well, after the party finished, we went back to my place and we started touching each other and… yeah. One thing led to another and we had sex.” 

“And how are you so calm about this?” 

Greg shrugged. “I don’t know. Once we finished, we realized that we weren’t crazy for each other. I think what we were feeling was… a rouse of lust that needed an answer. So, we decided to sleep with each other. But then we talked about it and we decided to just stay as good friends. Don’t get me wrong, I love Molly but I think we weren’t meant to become more than just friends.” 

When Greg said those words, John thought about how easy it was for Greg to realize that Molly wasn’t the one for him and how easy it was to put it in the past. And he observed the way Greg said it, without feeling a huge weight on his chest. 

How could it be so simple? 

To decide after a night of passion, where two bodies come together to become one, and readily admit that it wasn’t meant to become more. And then that made John think. 

Would he be able to know if Sherlock and him weren’t meant to become more? 

“And what about you?” 

John was brought back to the present moment and realized that Greg was having a conversation with him. “What?” 

Greg snorted as he took another sip of his drink. “Wow, you’re so paying attention to me. I said, why did you leave the party?” 

John shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.” 

“Always the same excuse.” Greg lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. “And how’s it going with the insufferable git living in your house?” 

“I don’t know. He’s just there.” 

“Have you guys talked? Become friends? Anything?” 

John tapped his fingers on the table. “We have but sometimes, he’s in a good mood, sometimes he sucks ass, and sometimes he’s unreadable. He’s like a fucking bipolar machine.” 

“You’ll grow to like him. I’m pretty sure you will.” 

“And what if I grow to hate him.” 

Greg clapped his hand on John’s shoulder. “I doubt that mate.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John came straight home after his meeting with Greg and decided to go for a short run. He went to his room and changed into comfortable running wear. The boy slipped on a pair of green shorts, running shoes, and left his torso bare. 

John stepped out of his house and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, filling his body with oxygen and refreshing his muscles. 

“Running?” Sherlock said as he clapped his pale hand on the boy’s shoulder blade. 

John was a bit startled by the random appearance of the man. “Why do you care?” 

Sherlock didn’t remove his hand from the boy’s shoulder blade, instead, he began to massage the muscle underneath his touch. John quickly pulled away from the touch and tried to ignore the tingling sensation running through his body as his brain processed the reality that Sherlock touched him. 

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked. 

“I’m okay.” 

Sherlock came towards the boy. “Come here.” He grabbed John’s shoulders and began to massage the tense flesh. 

The boy ripped away from the man’s hold. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Obviously, you’re tense. People tend to relax when they receive a massage.” 

John snorted. “I don’t need a massage from you.” 

Sherlock tried to reach the boy again. “It could be helpful.” 

“Fuck off, Sherlock.” John took his leave, jogging at a normal pace but putting as much distance between him and Sherlock. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was on his bed, an arm behind his head as he relished in the boredom surrounding him. He was so bored that he began to blow puffs of air to the hairs on his armpits to entertain himself. 

Since the odd interaction between Sherlock and him, things began to settle again in their uneasy setting. They still didn’t speak to each other, the boy flawlessly ignored Sherlock and presented zero opportunities for the man to speak to him or have a conversation. 

Sherlock was riding his bike as he came back from the village, cooly he slid off the bike while stopping the bicycle with his hands. He parked it beside a tree and headed towards B. 

John wasn’t thinking about anything in particular until the night where Sherlock came into his bedroom popped into his head. His thoughts ran away with him and the boy wondered if things could have gone differently. 

What if their actions progressed towards a sexual level? 

John kept thinking about the electric spark he experienced when Sherlock touched his shoulder and hesitantly, slid his hand underneath the waistband of his boxers and touched his cock. Its been a while since he’s jerked himself off, the touch of his warm fingers on his dick was almost foreign. He stroked himself a couple of times, he could feel his shaft being stimulated by his constant caresses. The boy didn’t rush, he wanted to feel every sensation running through his body when there was a knock at the door and Sherlock let himself in. 

John quickly pulled his hand away and leaned on his elbow as he picked up the book beside him and pretended to read. 

“Masturbating?” 

The boy looked at the intruder. “What?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh please, John. Don’t bother hiding it.” 

“Since when the hell did you get the habit of bursting into my room unannounced?” 

“Since now.” 

John huffed in annoyance. “What do you want?” 

“So, we are on speaking terms?” 

“Why the hell do you care?!” 

Sherlock smiled. “Whoever said I cared? I’m just reassuring myself that a speaking relationship still exists between us.” 

The boy sat up. “You have eight seconds to say why you are here before I get annoyed and throw this book at your face.” 

“What are you doing besides masturbating?” 

“Reading.” 

Sherlock leaned against the door. “I thought a social person such as yourself would indulge himself in the invitation of joining everyone by the river.” 

“First of all, if you knew me well or even remembered, I’m not into social events and secondly, I have allergies.” 

Sherlock knew that John was lying. “A nonexistent allergy, I suppose. Its not evident that you’re suffering through an allergic reaction. Interesting. Don’t worry, me too. Maybe we have the same allergy.” 

The boy stared at Sherlock, not really deciphering the point Sherlock was trying to make. 

“Why don’t you and I go swimming?” Sherlock asked. 

“Since when did you like swimming?” 

“Since now. Come on.” 

Sherlock approached John, grabbing his hand but the boy pulled his hand back. “Do we have to go right now?” 

“So, you are accepting my invitation of going outside for a swim?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“John, you are so oblivious to many things. I’m trying to amends here.” 

The boy leaned back. “Why?” 

“Its not easy-to explain.” 

“And how am I supposed to know that you’re not sucking up to me right now, while later you become an arsehole again?” 

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “Why do you care?” 

John shook his head. “Thanks for the invitation but I’m allergic to swimming with arseholes.” 

“Your loss. Later.” 

When Sherlock exited the boy’s room, John wanted to-say something but it was too late to say anything. Everything was so confusing, the boy did want to make amends with Sherlock but fuck, that man is a ticking bomb, he never knew when Sherlock would explode. John forcefully threw himself back on the mattress, repeatedly smacking his head against his pillow. 

Fuck. 

The boy gave in, maybe a swim wouldn’t hurt. John removed his boxers and nakedly walked into the bathroom. That’s when he stopped and watched as Sherlock slid on a pair of swimming trunks over his bare bum. The boy observed that Sherlock had full buttocks, they were pale and creamy, he felt eyes becoming entranced by the quick glimpse of skin. 

Sherlock was shirtless and once he settled into his swimming trunks, he grabbed his shades and faced John, who already slipped on his swimming trunks. 

“So, I’ll see you downstairs.” Sherlock smirked. 

The boy didn’t even have a chance to answer, since Sherlock left so swiftly. John chuckled as he realized that no matter how shitty Sherlock behaved towards him, the fucking prick always lured the boy in, pulling John back into the relationship they created. 

The boy looked into the mirror and shook his head. “You’re a twat, you know that, right John.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was inside the pool, resting his elbows on the edge of the pool as he read his music with his shades on. Sherlock kept swimming back and forth in the small pool, doing laps and keeping his head beneath the water. The boy watched as Sherlock never stopped to take a breather until the man reached the end of the pool and emerged from the water, pushing his soaked curls back and clearing the water droplets clinging onto his face. 

John decided to tear his gaze away from the man and paid attention to the music he had composed. 

Sherlock opened his eyes, squinting them for a bit as the strong rays of the sun whitened his vision. “John, what are you doing?” 

“Reading my music.” 

Sherlock snorted. “No, you’re not.” 

The boy allowed himself the tiniest smile to spread across his lips. “Thinking then.” 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Its private.” 

Sherlock scanned John’s body. “Still trying to put distance between us?” 

“Well, you did it. Why can’t I do it?” 

“Because when I do it, its brilliant. When you do it, you look like an idiot.” 

The boy faced Sherlock. “And that’s how you want to make amends.” 

“Look, John. I don’t expect you to understand me. I know that I’m complicated but I have no reason to explain my problems to you. You’re not my friend or anything else of importance. I should think that you’d be immune to my behavior by now.” 

John dropped his pen and glared at the man before him. “Right, why would anyone be friends with you? Clearly, you don’t know what a friendship is. But for your information, don’t expect me to be your beck and call. I’m not some porcelain doll that you use when your bored and then once you’re tired of me, you forget about me. And since I’m not your friend, I have the right to be annoyed with you and I have every right to reject your poor effort in making amends.” 

The boy grabbed his music paper and stepped out of the pool, heading back inside and running up the stairs to his room, completely abandoning Sherlock. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Things went back to the way they were, Sherlock and John coexisted in the same place but attention or recognition was not a requirement nor a necessity between the two. Even though they were both in the same room, it didn’t mean that they were required to talk to each other. 

Sherlock stopped trying to make amends and paid attention to his own work. 

The boy stopped carrying at one point and treated the man like if he was a stranger. 

They both stayed in their lanes, never once thinking of crossing each other. 

Until Sherlock tried to make amends again, one last attempt to place a band aid over the wound of their relationship. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The water flowed between the cracks of the small pools and fountains surrounding B. The day was pleasantly sunny, the shiny rays belonging to the sun were golden gifts from the bright star. 

Sherlock was laying on the edge of the pool, reading over the paper in his hands. He was laying on a green blanket as he sported his purple swimming trunks while exposing his chest. Sherlock was barefoot and he kept wiggling his toes as he read through his paper. 

Across from Sherlock, there was John. 

The boy was laying on a lawn chair in the sun, making his tanned skin shine brighter. He had his shades on, his head was tilted to the side as he enjoyed his nap. 

Sherlock kept grunting and harshly flipped through the pages in his hands. As much as Sherlock hated it, he needed a second opinion and that’s when the perfect making amends moment appeared. 

“John.” 

John awoke with a startled jump, the deep baritone voice pulling him away from his joyous sleep. “Hm.” 

“You’re sleeping.” 

“I was.” 

Sherlock adjusted his shades. “Listen to this dribble. I need your opinion.” 

The boy massaged his temples as he sat up. “Wait.” 

Sherlock faced John. “What?” 

“I can’t hear you.” The boy twisted himself around, cracking his back and stretching all his muscles before he got up from his seat and made his way towards Sherlock. 

John hopped onto the edge of the pool and came to stand at the end of Sherlock’s feet. 

Sherlock began to read his paper. “For the early Greeks, the beginnings of Chemistry had one purpose, recording the data of chemical changes that consisted of four natural elements: fire, water, earth, and wind. Since then, the progression of chemistry has allowed scientists to manipulate the original state of an element to convert it into a new creation. In other words, reverting the original element into a new component while still being able convert the current factor into its primary state by maneuvering the initial atoms in the substance to recreate the prior matter that was altered to expose its components which could be easily falsified due to the reversible change that is engendered by the chemical alternation.” 

The taller man finished his paragraph and lowered his paper to his lap as he faced the sky. “Does that make any sense to you? At one point it made sense to me but now its misleading. I don’t believe that it makes sense to your father.” 

The boy remained quiet, he listened intently to the words being spoken to him and constantly played the words back in his mind. “Maybe it did when you wrote it.” 

Sherlock faced John and the boy extended his hand, silently asking the man to give him his paper so John could read it with his own eyes. 

“That might be the kindest thing anybody has said to me in months.” 

The boy faced Sherlock, amazement written all over his features. “Kind?” 

“Mhm. Kind.” Sherlock removed his shades. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For the way I acted.” Sherlock chuckled. “This may sound odd but I do want our friendship to continue.” 

“So, you consider this a friendship?” 

“Of course. That is, if you forgive me.” 

John looked down at Sherlock’s papers and gave the man a genuine smile. “Just stop pushing me away.” 

Sherlock, still lying on his back, extended his toned pale arm, opening his palm and offering his hand to the boy. “I promise.” 

John looked down at Sherlock’s free hand and shook it while smiling brightly. “You better keep your damn promise.” 

“Scouts honor.” 

The boy sat down on the edge of the pool, next to Sherlock’s feet. He placed the man’s papers to the side and studied Sherlock. “So, we’re friends?” 

“Yes. You’re my only friend.” 

“I wonder why that is.” 

Sherlock snorted. “Maybe because you can tolerate me better than anyone else.” 

John chuckled. “That’s because I have patience.” 

Sherlock studied the small smile on the boy’s lips and he couldn’t help but admit that John was just beautiful. That was when he realized that yes… to his brother’s horror… he was involved. He allowed himself a tiny smile that was pure and immaculate. “Perhaps.” 

Unexpectedly, Sherlock pulled the boy by his arm, eliciting a playful yelp from John’s lips as the boy hit the water. The tension between the two had ceased and the awaited bridges within them were finally being built.


	5. Is It Better To Speak Or To Die?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Particularly proud of this chapter!

The morning brought a new day, a fresh commencement, a modern slate that was shining due to the goal of never being tainted, a recent friendship that was patiently waiting to become more. 

Since the day at the pool, Sherlock and John became like a garden, they were different flowers coexisting in the same soil. But they managed to become comfortable with each other again, the lost conversations between them reappeared once again. The antiquated laughter that was once forgotten, was heard between the two. 

The novel connection between Sherlock and the boy was at its adolescence. 

Sherlock and John were outside, basking in the sun as they populated the breakfast table, and as always, they were having one of their infamous debates. 

“Sentiment is a chemical defect.” Sherlock blatantly offered. 

“Sherlock, chemical defects are basically shortcomings, imperfections, or something that is lacking a specific element to make it perfect. How can sentiment be a chemical defect if as humans, we all experience it. Are you assuming that evolution purposefully gifted us sentiment to make us defective?” 

Sherlock wouldn’t admit it but after these few days, he’s become proud of the way the boy would defend his position in a debate. Instead of providing short and dull answers, John has slowly adapted a new form of expanding his meaning on the subject and taking a philosophical point of view on the matter. 

The man cracked his soft-boiled egg and ate the syrupy yolk inside. “Evolution has many faults to the human creation but my point is that not every person experiences sentiment.” 

“Such as?” 

“Highly functioning sociopaths like me.” 

The boy snorted as he ate his egg. “You’re obviously lying.” 

“Who’s lying?” Evan joined in the conversation. 

John faced his father. “Sherlock.” 

“Why are you being accused of lying?” Professor Watson asked Sherlock. 

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and pointed at the boy. “Ask your son.” 

Evan faced his son and waited for John to speak up. “This man sitting next to me is saying that sentiment is a chemical defect and as evidence to back up his claim, he says that he doesn’t experience sentiment.” 

Professor Watson faced Sherlock. “Perhaps you haven’t connected with someone who could elicit sentiment from your heart.” 

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “Its more complicated than that.” 

“Its not.” The boy chipped in. “All you have to do is find the courage to reach out and touch. Perhaps that person might say yes and you’ll acquire a reason to feel sentiment towards that person.” 

Sherlock scrunched his nose in disagreement. “Well, that sounds tiresome. I probably shouldn’t try anytime sooner.” 

John felt a bit disappointed at hearing Sherlock saying that, he really did want Sherlock to admit that sentiment could be felt by the man. The boy even exposed a portion of himself to Sherlock, conceding that if Sherlock simply reached out towards him, John would say yes. But apparently, his tactic went unnoticed. 

“What shouldn’t you try later?” Sybil asked over her shoulder as she cut pieces of rosemary from the garden. 

Evan faced his wife. “I just heard from the people in Sirmione. They say they’ve come up with something.” 

Mrs Watson smiled. “Oh. Fantastic!” 

Professor Watson chuckled excitedly. “I know. I can’t resist it, so, I’m going there today.” He faced Sherlock. “Would you like to come along?” 

Evan knew that Sherlock worked hard on his chemistry paper and knew that the man did an outstanding job helping the professor with his manuscript. So, he decided to give Sherlock a break and invite the man to enjoy Evan’s most beloved subject, archeology. 

Sherlock looked up from his breakfast and nodded. “Of course. Thank you.” 

The boy looked at his father, feeling a bit left out. “Can I come, too?” 

“Ah, on the condition you remain silent.” Professor Watson said as he winked at John. 

Sherlock smirked. “Silent as in, he has too many opinions, or silent as in, just not telling anybody what an amazing thing you’ve dug up.” 

“Well, nothing has been dug up. Its what has been brought up, out of the water.” Evan smiled. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was in the kitchen, looking out at the view in front of B. when he heard someone ringing a bell from their bicycle. The boy faced the person approaching his house and saw that it was Irene on a bicycle. 

Irene came to the window where John stood and smiled. “Hello John.” 

“Irene.” 

“Do you happen to know where Molly’s house is?” 

John stuck his hand out. “You’re not that far, go three more blocks down and you’ll find her.” 

“Thank you.” Irene took a quick break, before starting her trip again. “What are you up to?” 

“Going to Lake Garda with my dad.” 

“Sounds fun.” Before Irene could say anything else, she caught of quick glimpse of the tall stranger with darks curls and pale skin. She learned that her attention was needed elsewhere. “See ya.” 

The boy watched as Irene excused herself quite rudely and lifted his eyebrow as he saw her disappear inside his house. John could have sworn that Irene was after Sherlock but he paid no attention to it and prepared himself for the trip to Lake Garda. 

The boy grabbed one of the books off the kitchen counter and slipped on his shades as he approached his father’s car. He opened the car door to the back seat on the left and waited for Sherlock and his father. 

As he waited, he was greeted by the sight of Sherlock coming out with Irene attached to his arm, Irene was positively trying to crawl all over the man. She resembled a leech that didn’t want to abandon the warm flesh of a human. Irene kept invading the man’s space and to John’s confusion, Sherlock seemed intrigued by Irene. 

If the boy didn’t know any better, he would say that the foul searing pain clawing at his throat was jealousy, but why would he be jealous? 

Maybe that’s what John missed, maybe that was his oblivious mistake, perhaps Sherlock preferred women. 

Now everything made sense, no wonder Sherlock didn’t touch him that night when he entered the boy’s room. It was now obvious, Sherlock preferred the opposite sex. 

Well, that was John’s cue to realize that Sherlock and him weren’t meant to become more, what a fucking shame. 

The boy continued observing the interaction between the two and that’s when he wondered if he should help Sherlock become something with Irene, it only seemed fair, after all, Sherlock was probably desperate to fuck a girl. 

Irene leaned up and kissed Sherlock on the cheek, leaving behind a faint trace of her red lipstick on his skin. She whispered something into his ear and waved John goodbye. 

Sherlock approached the car, eyeing the boy as he entered the passenger seat, wiping away the lipstick on his cheek. 

Irene got on her bicycle and flirtatiously sent a coy smile towards Sherlock as she pedaled away, ringing her bell one last time. 

When Sherlock became comfortable in his seat, John lowered himself to face the man. “Dad always sits up front with Anchise to navigate.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and exited the passenger seat, making his way to the back seat. 

The boy watched as Irene turned the corner and disappeared. “She seems to like you a lot.” 

Sherlock seemed confused by the comment and looked at the empty road where Irene’s presence once existed. 

John faced the man. “Maybe its time for that sentiment to appear. You should go after her. She is beautiful.” 

Sherlock snorted. “Women. Not really my area.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

Sherlock placed his shades on. “Are you trying to make me like her?” 

“What would be the harm in that?” 

The man stared at the boy. “No, no harm. But I consider myself married to my work and the distractions of relationships are not welcomed.” Sherlock entered the car and slammed the door behind him. 

John frowned, did he misinterpret the situation in a wrong way? 

The boy entered the car as his father came out and advised Anchise that he should take the day off, Evan would be driving today. 

John made himself comfortable in the back seat next to Sherlock when the man removed his shades and faced the boy. “Just don’t play at being the good host. It doesn’t suit you.” 

As easy as it was to make Sherlock happy, it was easy to have him turn back into the cold heartless man that he could be and to no surprise, the cold glare he sent towards John was a sign that Sherlock was angry. The man turned away and looked out the window. 

The boy looked at Sherlock and wondered where he went wrong. He left the sight of Sherlock and settled his gaze on the book in his lap. 

My how the tables have turned. 

Usually… actually no, it was always John who experienced the familiar emotions of anger and they were towards Sherlock but now, it was the man who was angry at the boy. John didn’t really know how to feel about this. 

What the actual fuck? 

Could John be blamed for assuming that Sherlock liked women? Was it his fault that he wanted to be helpful? Was the boy way off course? Did John somehow mess up everything just by directing Sherlock’s attention towards the opposite sex? 

The boy didn’t know, instead he repeated the words Sherlock said in his head, women, not really my area. 

What on earth did that mean? 

Then John’s eyes widened as he dissected the meaning of that statement, he faced Sherlock, did the man prefer the same sex? Was he attracted to boys like John? Was it a code message that Sherlock was hinting towards the boy and John completely missed it? 

The boy’s thoughts were interrupted when his father approached the car. “What’s going on boys?” 

Sherlock gave a false smile as John studied him. 

“Sherlock, come.” Evan entered the vehicle. “Sit up front. Be my navigator.” 

Sherlock faced the boy and smirked as he went to sit in the passenger seat. 

John made a perplexed face. “What? What?” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was walking through the columns that inhabited the area around Lake Garda, he let his hand linger against the bricks that made up every column. He smiled as he heard his father gushing about his beloved topic to Sherlock. 

Evan was throughly explaining the history of the objects that they were about to see when Professor Watson saw his good friend, Dr Roseburg. 

The boy caught up with his father and Sherlock as he placed on his shades and ran towards his father’s friend, hugging the man. Evan introduced Sherlock to his friend and the four began to walk towards the lake. Professor Watson walked with his friend ahead while Sherlock and John stayed behind. 

They reached the lake and Evan became extremely excited when his friend presented him with a relic, a broken arm that once belonged to a statue. Professor Watson held onto the relic, he noticed the discoloration on the piece and became even more excited when he realized that this forgotten relic was underneath the water all this time and now, it was in his hands. Evan studied the marvelous piece while Sherlock deduced every information of the relic. 

The boy reached towards the sculpted fingers at the end of the arm and his father chuckled breathlessly. Professor Watson’s friend called to him, asking to help the man prepare the boat, so Evan gave the relic to Sherlock. 

Sherlock told hold of the relic and held it with such delicacy as he took the opportunity to feel the object in between his fingers and add new information to his already formed deductions. 

As Professor Watson went to help his friend, Sherlock and John were left alone. 

Sherlock continued eyeing the imperfect arm while the boy looked at Sherlock. 

John extended his arm towards Sherlock, offering his hand. “Tregua?” (Truce)

Sherlock smiled as shook the boy’s hand with the relic. 

Evan called the boys and the two hopped onto the boat accompanied by Professor Watson’s friend as they sailed deeper into the lake. 

Evan began to explain what they’ve found, “The ship went down in 1827 on the way to Isola del Garda. Gossip has it that this statue was a gift from Count Lechi to his lover, contralto Adelaide Malanotte. There are four known sets, after the Praxiteles originals. This fellow’s at number three. The Emperor Hadrian had a pair, dug up at Tivoli, but one of the more philistine of the Farnese Popes melted them down and had to recast as a particularly voluptuous Venus.” 

As the history of the statue was being provided; Sherlock, John, Evan, and Dr Roseburg watched from their small boat as the turquoise water beneath them began to bubble lightly. The bubbles continued increasing in size, becoming wider and wider as the faint outline of the statue became visible to the human eye. In a matter seconds, two divers appeared at the surface, holding onto a statue and providing their audience with a view. The clear water lapped away at the statue, making it unbelievable that after all this time, a beautiful statue such as this one would finally be touched by human hands once again. 

Soon enough, everyone returned to shore and the statue was gently placed on the sand. 

Sherlock eyed the statue, deducing the information being provided while crouching down on his knees. His eyes marveled at the exquisite piece of history. He let his fingers dance over the face of the statue, his fingers lightly grazed the forehead of the statue, then the nose, and finally the lips. 

The boy appeared at Sherlock’s side and ran his fingers over the torso of the statue. 

Quickly, Sherlock faced John and his eyes lingered on the boy’s lips, the man pictured those lips on the statue. Tenderly, he caressed the lips of the statue and oh, how he would give anything to replace the statue with John. But only his imagination was sufficient for now, instead his fingers softly traced over the bottom lip of the statue, mimicking the movements he would make if he were able to touch the boy’s lips. 

John eyed the way Sherlock delayed his touch on the statue’s lips. Was it possible to become jealous of a statue? The boy wanted to be in the statue’s place, he wanted to be the one who felt Sherlock’s fingers on his lips. John shook his head at the thought and paid attention to the statue’s torso. 

The boy used his palms to feel the texture of the statue and although, in the beginning he was engrossed by the fascinating statue, his thoughts began to waver off. Instead, he imagined that it was Sherlock’s chest that he was touching. If Sherlock could just substitute himself with the statue’s place, then John could lay his palms on the man’s torso. He would want to memorize every patch of skin and muscle belonging to Sherlock, if possible, he would want that touch engraved in his skin. 

The thoughts belonging to Sherlock and the boy were interrupted by the voice of Professor Watson speaking to them. “Who’d like to go for a swim before we head back?” 

John faced his father. “We would.” 

In the next passing hours, the sun was beginning to set and the shadowy colors of blue and violet were coloring the sky like a pastel painting. 

Professor Watson, Sherlock, and the boy were in the water, the only clothing items clinging onto their bodies were their boxers. Evan took the opportunity to enjoy the calm swim, floating on his back and closing his eyes as he drifted off. 

On the other hand, Sherlock and John were making loud noises and splashing water towards each other. Shouts of excitement echoed throughout the lake as Sherlock and the boy enjoyed themselves. 

Sherlock was at the end of the lake. “John!” 

“Sherlock!” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock parked the car in front of B. and everyone exited the vehicle. 

John happily faced Sherlock. “Race you to the lake.” 

As quick as a flash, the boy sprinted ahead, running as fast as he could. 

Sherlock faced Evan. “Excuse me, Professor, I have to go race your son.” 

Professor Watson smiled. “Go before he wins you.” 

Sherlock snorted as he began to run. “Is that all you got, Watson!” 

Even though, John had a head start, he still wasn’t capable of surpassing Sherlock, for the man had longer legs which was an advantage to gaining more speed. It took a few minutes to reach the boy but in a smooth dive, Sherlock tackled John to the ground. 

“Got you!” 

The boy chuckled as he rolled onto his back. “Fuck you.” 

Sherlock snorted as he laid on his stomach. “Don’t be jealous just because I’m faster than you.” 

John smiled and reached inside his pocket. “Cigarette.” 

“Please.” 

The two began to smoke, puffs of white clouds colored the dark sky above them. 

“Today was fun.” 

Sherlock held the cigarette in between his fingers. “Yes. For once, you’re not intolerable.” 

“I thought that was my line.” 

Sherlock smirked and took another drag. “John.” 

The boy faced Sherlock. “Yes.” 

Sherlock rolled onto his side, resting his elbow on the grass as he placed the side of his head on his palm. He was curious about something, he wanted to determine the facts and see which were the sweet lies that haunted his deductions. Sherlock was willing to expose a tiny piece of himself and see how John would react, if the feelings that were beginning to develop inside his heart were reciprocated by the boy. 

“Do you believe it’s possible to have a weakness that doesn’t involve strength nor skill, instead that weakness is someone you know.” 

John took in the man’s question and couldn’t help but feel as if he’d been stripped of his own bearings, its as if Sherlock could see right through him. The exposure of a truth that the boy has been trying to hide was uncovered, making John feel vulnerable. 

“Yes.” The boy simply replied. 

Sherlock took another drag before continuing to speak again. “Do you think it would be a coincidence if that person shared the same weakness? That their weakness was you.” 

“Coincidence? Do you think the universe is rarely so lazy?” 

Sherlock remained quiet, his eyes staring into the boy’s soul. “No.” 

John took another drag. “Then there’s your answer. Someone can be your weakness. Its like heroes, people will always be their weakness.” 

Sherlock frowned. “Don’t compare us to heroes, John. Heroes don’t exist. And if they did, I wouldn’t be one of them.” 

The man stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. “Good night.” 

The boy kept the cigarette in between his lips as he rested himself on his elbows, watching as Sherlock disappeared into the night. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was shirtless along with sunflower yellow shorts, the boy was seated on a piano bench, resting his forearms on the piano as he settled his chin on his hands. 

The conversation between Sherlock and him was still fresh in his mind like new paint. John wasn’t sure what Sherlock was trying to tell him, was the man disclosing a conviction that was easily misinterpreted? Did Sherlock purposefully divulge a secret that the boy missed? Was a small piece of Sherlock’s heart being offered to John but the boy was blind to even see it? 

John was completely lost, he felt like he was in a maze that had no exit. The boy leaned his head to the side and began to hum a tune. 

Since last night, John decided to compose a new piece dedicated to Sherlock. He wanted this piece of music to describe the man, he wanted every note to resemble Sherlock. 

It seemed to early to have a distant thought in one’s head but the boy wanted a token of Sherlock. For when the time comes and the man must leave, a small part of a symphony could belong to John and it would only pertain to him. The tune that only he could play would always lie in between his fingers, only he would know which keys to press, which keys to linger on as he would remember Sherlock’s substantiality. If the only thing that the boy could keep was music, then he would cherish it with all his life, for it would be his only connection to Sherlock and the notion that he did exist in his life, even if it was during a short span of time. 

John sat up straight and started to play a soft melody, a simple chime that bounced off the walls in B. Then a new tune was being played, consistent but still a soft spark that resembled the illumination of Sherlock whenever he babbled on about his deductions or when he brightened up on a subject that he knew very well. 

Then delicate clicks were being heard, like the ones that resemble the constant beating of one’s heart. 

The boy stopped playing and abandoned his seat at the piano bench, he calmly made his way upstairs to his room when he stopped to face Sherlock’s closed door. Sherlock currently wasn’t at B., he was with Professor Watson somewhere. 

John approached the door and placed his hand on the doorknob when he heard Mrs Hudson coming up the stairs. The boy released the doorknob and swiftly entered his room, softly closing the door behind him as he went to sit at his desk. He picked up a book and pretended to read as he heard Mrs Hudson entering Sherlock’s room and probably leaving a new batch of clean clothes. Then Mrs Hudson knocked on John’s door. 

“Yes.” 

Mrs Hudson entered his room. “Hello dearie. Here are your clean clothes.” 

“Thank you.” 

Mrs Hudson patted the boy’s head before she headed out the door. 

“Can you leave the door open?” John asked. 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you.” 

Once she went back downstairs, the boy entered Sherlock’s room. The room was a bit clumpy, a clean mess if you will. He eyed the pile of clean clothes on the bed and then he spotted a pair of purple swimming trunks that belonged to Sherlock. The boy grabbed the clothing item and sat down on the bed. 

John allowed his hands to touch the fabric, running his fingers over the property that pertained to Sherlock, no doubt it felt more like a privilege than a right to have something that belonged to Sherlock in his hands. The boy pressed the item to his nose and inhaled, it smelled of Sherlock, of course. 

John turned around and rested himself on his stomach as he placed the swimming trunks in front of him. He eyed the clothing item, not really comprehending what he was doing or looking for. Then the boy grabbed the waistband of the swimming trunks and opened it, stuffing his head inside. He rearranged the clothing item on his head, the small area that housed Sherlock’s cock was pressed against John’s nose and mouth. 

The boy inhaled deeply as he spread his legs beneath him, opening them apart as far as he could and digging his knees into the mattress as he placed his fists against the bed. He pushed himself up, mimicking a lewd position as he moved forward, envisioning… almost daring to let himself wonder how it would feel to have Sherlock take him from behind. Letting himself being curious as he tried to imagine the pain he would feel if he allowed Sherlock to penetrate him, the pleasure he would receive knowing that he gave himself completely to the man. 

John stilled his movements as he shook his head, forcing the swimming trunks to abandon their purchase on his head and letting them fall on the mattress. The boy eyed the clothing item that he violated and wondered if he was losing his mind. 

Was this wrong? Was the boy losing sight of what was reality and what was imagination? Would he rather imagine Sherlock taking him or would he rather live a life knowing that Sherlock would never have him, much less touch him in that way? Was it amiss to desire more than what he had? 

So many questions flowed through John’s head, making him even more confused. 

The voices belonging to his father and Sherlock reached the boy’s ears, they were back. John quickly got off the bed and exited Sherlock’s room, walking out into the hallway as he made his way towards the balcony. He held onto the rails as the sight of Sherlock appeared before his eyes. The boy noticed that the man had on his favorite billowy shirt and shorts that complimented his body. He watched as Sherlock walked away from B., disappearing from his sight. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The days became less sunny, instead the rains made their appearance. Thunder roared throughout Italy, dampening anything that the rain could touch. The rain began to pour harder by the hour, the constant thumping against the window was a subtle reminder that the gloomy weather would stay a bit longer than expected. 

Inside the living room, John was sitting with his father on the couch, both reading. 

Mrs Watson entered the room. “Darling, have you seen my Heptameron?” 

Evan pointed at the stack of books on the table across from him and Sybil reached for her book. “Its in German.” She opened the book. “Okay.” Pages were being flipped as Sybil tried to remember where she left off last time. “I can’t remember where we left off but I think you’ll like this one.” 

Mrs Watson sat down on the couch next to her husband and the boy rearranged himself so that his back was resting on his father’s thighs and his head was cushioned between his mother’s lap. Sybil began to comb through John’s blond hair and began to read. 

Since the book was in German, Sybil needed a few seconds to read the text and properly translate the words into English. “So, I’ll translate, huh?” 

She read the words in German to herself and then provided the translated version to her husband and son. “A handsome young knight is madly in love with a princess. And she, too, is in love with him though she seems not to be entirely aware of it. Despite the friendship… that blossoms between them or perhaps because of that very friendship, the young knight finds himself so… so humbled and speechless that he’s totally unable to bring the subject of his love. Till one day, he asks the princess, point blank.” 

Sybil pronounces the next words in German, pausing before she translated the text to English. “Is it better to speak or to die?” 

The boy looked up at his mother and silently repeated those words inside his head like an endless loop. 

Due to the severity of the storm outside, the electricity running through B. went out, leaving the entire house in darkness. 

John stared up at the ceiling. “I’d never have the courage to ask a question like that.” 

Evan chuckled. “I doubt that.” Professor Watson patted the boy’s stomach. “Hey. Johnny rabbit. You do know that you can always talk to us.”


	6. I’m A Mess

The gloomy weather residing in Italy made its disappearance the next morning, instead of grey skies and melancholy clouds, the sky was bright and yellow. The sun made its entrance again, illuminating all the wet areas that the rain dampened, leaving Italy dry and spotless. 

John was sitting on a lawn chair, his button up shirt was open, exposing his tanned chest as he read a book. A pen was in his hand for whenever he wanted to highlight specific lines, lines that explained his unspoken feelings for Sherlock. 

Across the boy, Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the pool, one foot was inside the water while the other was being swayed against the dry wind. His back was towards John, Sherlock was sitting in silence, wondering why his brain was telling him one thing while his heart said another; of course, the thoughts inside his head were about the boy behind him. 

John adjusted his shades on his face. “My mom’s been reading this 16th century French romance. She read some of it to my dad and I, the day the lights went out.” 

“Yes, about the knight that doesn’t know whether to speak or die.” 

The boy looked up at smiled at Sherlock’s form, he always forgot that the man knew everything about anything on this earth. So, why would it be a surprise that Sherlock knew exactly what John was talking about. 

“Right.” The boy returned his gaze to the book in his hands. 

Sherlock knew about the novel the boy was speaking off but never did he actually care about the following events that came after the knight was confronted with either speaking the truth of his love to the princess or staying silent and always holding back his piece, never telling the princess how much he loved her. 

So, Sherlock asked. “So, does he, or doesn’t he?” 

John placed the book down on the chair and played with his pen. “Better to speak, she said. But she’s on her guard. She senses a trap somewhere.” 

Sherlock slightly tilted his head to the side, wondering if the boy was trying to convey a message to him, if the words being spoken were a truth that Sherlock has been wanting to hear for a while and somehow decoding the message he’s been searching for. “So, does he speak?” 

“No. He fudges.” 

Sherlock snorted. “Hm. Typical. They’re French, there’s not much you can expect.” He said as he turned around to face John, dipping his other foot inside the water beneath him. 

The boy smiled as he looked up at Sherlock, then tore his gaze away from the man as he looked down at his book. 

Sherlock quirked his lips into a small smile then his lagoon eyes landed on John, the foreign emotion of longing was crawling up his spine and melting inside his chest. “I need to go to town in a little bit, to pick up a book.” 

The boy jumped at the opportunity to spend more time with Sherlock. “If you need some company, I can go with you. I’m not doing anything today.” 

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, skillfully not showing how happy he was that John offered to join him. “Then why don’t we go together?” 

“Right now?” 

Sherlock stood up, abandoning his seat on the pool and approaching the boy. “Yes. Right now. That is, of course, unless you have more important business going on.” 

John rolled his eyes as he imitated Sherlock’s voice in a deep rumble and repeated what the man said to him. “That is, of course, unless you have more important business going on.” 

The boy got up from his seat, he grabbed his book and music papers on the table next to him and stuffed them inside his backpack. Once everything was packed, Sherlock and John went to retrieve their bikes from Anchise and their journey to town began. 

As always, there was no one on the road, no one around their area, no busy bodies to slow down their pace. It was empty, just the way they both liked it. 

They arrived in town and Sherlock hopped off his bike as he faced the boy. “Hold my bike for a second, will you?” 

John took Sherlock’s bike and watched as the man entered a café to get something. A couple of seconds later, Sherlock emerged from the café with a packet of cigarettes, lighting one as he walked towards the boy. 

“Want one?” Sherlock offered. 

“Sure.” 

John placed the cigarette in between his lips and waited as Sherlock fished out his lighter and lit the end of the cigarette for him. Soon enough, they were both puffing out white clouds of smoke through their lips. Sherlock grabbed his bike and walked towards a memorial that was surrounded by a small black gate. 

The boy got off his bike as he followed the man, wondering what Sherlock wanted to do. 

Sherlock looked back at John. “Pleasing, huh?” He gestured towards the cigarette. 

“Pleasing indeed.” The boy took another drag. “I thought you were going to quit smoking?” 

Sherlock approached the black gate surrounding the memorial, leaning his bike against it as he faced John. “I am.” 

The boy smiled as he rested the bicycle against the gate as well. 

Sherlock observed the memorial. “World War II?” He questioned. 

“No. This is World War I.” 

Sherlock snapped his fingers. “Damn. There’s always something.” 

“Yeah, you’d have to be at least 80 years old to have known any of them.” 

Sherlock began to go around the memorial. “Battle of Piave. A brutal battle indeed.” 

John looked up at the memorial. “Yes, the Battle of Piave was one of the most lethal battles of World War I. Hundred and seventy thousand people died.” 

Sherlock reached the edge of the gate, it was shaped like a hexagon. He rested his hands on the black metal and faced the boy. “You keep surprising me, is there anything you don’t know?” 

John chuckled quietly as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and walked the other way, reaching the unoccupied edge of the memorial, facing Sherlock in an adjacent angle. “I know nothing, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock placed his forearms against the metal and leaned against the gate. “Well, you seem to know more than anybody else around here.” 

The boy took a deep breath, of course it wasn’t audible to Sherlock, but John looked up at the man, daring to expose a secret that was already carved into his heart. The boy didn’t know how Sherlock would react but he was willing to show himself, he was capable of displaying his essence to Sherlock, hoping that the man felt the same towards him. 

“Well, if only you knew how little I know about the things that matter.” 

Sherlock made eye contact with John, confusion written all over his features. “What things that matter?” 

The boy didn’t tear his gaze away from Sherlock. “You know what things.” 

Sherlock walked a bit forward, his once adjacent view of John was now rearranged, instead, the man was parallel to the boy, both standing across from each other. “Why are you telling me this?” 

John looked down at his cigarette and tapped the end of it with his finger. “Cause I thought you should know.” 

Sherlock laughed. “Because you thought I should know?” 

“Cause I wanted you to know.” The boy still didn’t face Sherlock as he whispered again, “Because I wanted you to know.” 

Sherlock heard the soft whisper and walked around the memorial, his body disappearing behind the statue in front of him, the words spoken by John were consuming him alive. 

The boy went around the memorial as well, not believing that he had the courage to admit his feelings towards the man he’s grown to care for as he repeated. “Because I wanted you to know. Cause I wanted you to know.” 

Like an unstoppable clash waiting to happen, Sherlock and John walked towards each other, their breathing forms coming together as they stopped walking and looked into each other’s eyes. 

The boy looked up at Sherlock. “Because there’s no one else I can say this to but you.” 

Sherlock brought the cigarette to his lips. “Are saying what I think you’re saying?” 

John nodded as he took bold steps towards Sherlock, wanting to be close to the man. 

Sherlock stopped him, gently pushing him back. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay right here.” 

The boy softly said, “You know I’m not going anywhere.” 

John took inactive steps, lazily trotting behind Sherlock as he enjoyed the last consummation of his cigarette. 

Sherlock emerged from the bookstore with a book in hand, he approached the boy and shook his head. “The bloody book is in Italian. I’ll have to translate every page in order to find the precise information I need. This will set me back a whole day. Bullocks.” 

John chuckled as he looked down at the floor. “Shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“Just pretend you never did.” 

The boy threw his cigarette to the side. “Does that mean we’re on speaking terms but not really?” 

Sherlock turned around and faced John. “It means we can’t talk about those kinds of things. Okay? We just can’t.” 

The boy looked down at the ground and bit the inside of his cheek, he formed a thin line with his lips and didn’t meet the man’s eyes. 

So, this is what it felt like? 

Being rejected by someone you want. Having to bear the pain when someone tells you no. Yet, John didn’t feel completely lost, he knew that Sherlock didn’t mean what he said, he couldn’t have meant it, could he? 

Sherlock gave the book he purchased to the boy and John stuffed it inside his backpack. Sherlock walked away, leaving the boy behind as he went to grab his bike. John stared at Sherlock’s retreating form and tried to make sense of all the words the man said. The boy didn’t deny that there was a slight pang of pain igniting inside his bones. 

John placed his backpack on his shoulders, grabbed his bike, and quickly walked away. 

Out of Sherlock’s peripheral vision, he could see that the boy was upset and hurt, and that made him wonder if he did the right thing or if he had any right to tell those things to John. Obviously, the facts he was searching for were true, the boy did reciprocate the same emotions towards him. 

John looked back. “Hey! Come on.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock was out of breath, they have been racing each other with their bikes, not really going anywhere until John took the lead and decided to take Sherlock somewhere. A place where few people, meaning the boy never took anyone to this spot and Sherlock would be the only person to see this area with his eyes. 

The ride there took a few minutes but after an exhaust full journey, they arrived at John’s secret hiding place. The boy stopped his bike and swiftly got off it as he faced Sherlock and took off his shoes. “Come on.” 

John began to run, he made his way down a small creek that was hidden behind a small steep hill. The boy was mindful of his steps as he came closer to the small creek while looking back to make sure that Sherlock was following him. 

Sherlock caught up to where the boy ran off and smiled as he eyed the secluded area that John brought him too. The boy entered the water, pushing himself against the water that reached his lower calves. 

John walked deeper into the creek. “This is my spot. Its all mine. I come here to read. Can’t tell you the number of books I’ve read here.” 

Sherlock’s eyes landed on the boy and a heartwarming smile spread across his lips as he entered the water but that smile was replaced by a shocked gasp. “Dear god, this water is freezing!” 

John chuckled at Sherlock’s reaction as he continued walking into the water. “Spring is in the mountains. The Alpi Oribie. The water comes straight down from there.” 

Sherlock dipped his hands in the clear substance and soaked his face with the refreshing water. Then he soaked his fingers again and ran them through his curls. The boy came towards Sherlock’s side but kept a safe distance between them. 

Playfully, John kicked the water towards Sherlock and the man returned the cold splashes back to the boy. 

Sherlock turned around, directing his back towards John as he stretched his arms and placed them behind his head. “I like the way you say things. I don’t know why you’re always putting yourself down, though.” 

“So, you won’t, I guess.” The boy said softly. 

Sherlock faced John. “Are you that afraid of what I think?” 

The boy looked down at the water and realized that in this moment, it was just Sherlock and him. There was no one else around; his parents were nonexistent and the reality of people inhabiting Italy weren’t anywhere near them. So, John was able to show his quintessence to Sherlock and most likely show what he wanted from Sherlock. 

The boy looked up at Sherlock and made a fearless move, he stepped closer to Sherlock and gazed up at the man as Sherlock looked down at him. They stared into each other’s eyes, so many emotions were flashing through Sherlock’s eyes. And for once, John felt relieved that Sherlock was susceptible to experiencing emotions, for he could see each emotion appearing in the man’s eyes. 

The boy smiled as he looked down at Sherlock’s lips and the man chuckled as he stepped around John. “You’re making things very difficult for me.” 

Sherlock walked past the boy, he stepped out of the creek and looked back at John, silently telling the boy to follow him. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
After their brief talk in the creek, John and Sherlock came up to rest on the grass. They were both laying on their backs as they basked underneath the warm glow of the sun. 

The boy rested his hands behind his head and exhaled loudly as he closed his eyes. “I love this, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock tilted his head a bit. “What?” 

John remained quiet for a while as he searched for the right word. “Everything.” 

Sherlock snorted. “Us, you mean?” 

“Mm, its not bad.” The boy chuckled. “Could be better.” 

Sherlock faced John and studied the boy’s features, it was surprising to learn that the man knew every inch of John’s skin and there wasn’t a single feature that he missed or forgot to jot down in his mind palace. Slowly, Sherlock laid on his side as he rested himself on his elbow. He loomed over the boy, undressing John with his eyes. 

The boy still had his eyes closed but he could sense the bright orange glow of the sun being casted into darkness as he felt Sherlock’s shadow falling over him. Sherlock came closer John and gently ran his fingers over the boy’s lips, caressing the flesh like if it was the holiest treasure on earth. 

John detected the cool touch on his lips and felt all his senses sparking like dynamite preparing to explode. He opened his mouth and sensually darted his tongue towards Sherlock’s fingers, needing to taste any part of Sherlock’s hand. 

Sherlock felt his world spinning as he felt the warm wet touch of the boy’s tongue on his fingers. Then Sherlock placed his hand underneath John’s chin, directing the boy’s face to meet his gaze. 

John opened his eyes, the sun making his cobalt blue eyes shine even more as he looked up Sherlock. The boy laid on his side as he lifted his head up, docilely grazing his blond hair against Sherlock’s skin. 

They were face to face, their eyes were half closed as they stared at each other’s lips. Their breaths were brushing across their faces as their skin began to tingle. 

For so long, they desired this. For so long, they restrained themselves. 

And finally, they could surrender and give in. 

Their noses brushed against each other, faintly Sherlock lifted John’s chin and ghosted his lips over the boy’s. John chased after the man’s full lips, his mouth parted open as he tried to capture Sherlock’s lips. The man pulled away and smiled as he witnessed how badly the boy wanted him but to be fair, Sherlock was equally as desperate to have John. 

The boy came closer and gradually dragged his tongue over Sherlock’s lips, making sure to leave behind a wet trail of saliva on the man’s skin. Then Sherlock opened his mouth and procured John’s lips in a lethargic kiss. The light wet smack that emitted from their mouths was audible to their ears and they decided to keep that sound alive. 

As their lips parted, Sherlock stared into the boy’s eyes and held onto John’s neck as he pressed himself closer to the boy. Their lips were connected once again, the languid pace was a sight to behold. As they interwove their lips; they took the opportunity to taste each other properly, they wanted to intimately touch other, memorize every ridge and curve that belonged to their skins. 

John reached up, holding onto Sherlock for his dear life, fearing that if he let go, he would lose Sherlock forever. And the boy didn’t want to lose Sherlock, not after learning that their lips were pressed together to experience sweet kisses. 

Right when John wanted more kisses, more flittering touches, more of Sherlock, the man pushed the boy off him and looked the other way. 

Leaving John chasing after his lips, the boy grazed his lips across Sherlock’s neck and slumped himself towards the grass. 

“Better now?” Sherlock questioned. 

John smelled the grass in between his fingers, no, he did not feel better for he wanted more. He needed more. The boy pushed himself up and captured Sherlock’s lips again, surprising the man. John placed himself on top of Sherlock’s lap as he tried to climb the man and consume every kiss that Sherlock had to offer. 

Sherlock pushed the boy off him again and made sure to place the boy on the grass, assuring that John’s bum was planted to the ground and their kiss was forced to a halt. 

“No, no, no.” Sherlock said in a calm tone. 

They both ended up sitting on the grass and facing the never-ending fields that glowed underneath the sun’s warmth. 

“We should go.” 

“Why?” The boy asked. 

Sherlock faced John. “I know myself. Okay? And we’ve been good. We haven’t done anything to be ashamed of, and that’s a good thing. I have to be good.” 

The boy turned his head away from Sherlock, he didn’t want to listen to Sherlock’s reason, he just wanted to give himself completely to the man. It was so simple, John needed to have Sherlock. He wasn’t asking for much, was he? 

“Do you understand?” Sherlock asked. 

The boy nodded and forcefully smacked his palm against Sherlock’s cock and massaged the organ with his fingers, keeping a sharp eye on Sherlock, not breaking the contact. “Am I offending you?” 

Sherlock smiled, he would give anything to have John touch his cock everyday and lose himself into oblivion but he removed the boy’s hand from his cock and placed it on John’s knee. “Just don’t.” 

Sherlock stood up and stretched while the boy looked away, not wanting to show Sherlock how affected he was by the man’s rejection. 

Sherlock looked down at John. “I’ve disappointed you.” 

The boy bit his lip as he looked up at the man looming over him. “Good deduction.” 

Sherlock offered his hand. “Come on, let’s go.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The next day, an Italian couple who were friends with Mr and Mrs Watson came to visit. They were somewhat considered as close friends but lord, did they love to talk and talk and… talk. They were all seated at the breakfast table as the Italian couple began their conversation with the government of Bettino Craxi. 

Evan was at the end of the table, looking at the couple with a confused expression as he heard them chatting away without ever taking a break to breathe. Sybil was trying to pay attention for every once in a while, the couple asked for her opinions on the subjects they were discussing and she would have to contribute. 

John was somewhat listening, not really caring about the conversation taking place. Sherlock was at the other end of the table, sitting adjacent from the boy but he had no idea what the fuck was going on. Sherlock’s eyes were widened by fear for he never encountered a talkative couple before and he had to suppress from laughing at the ridiculous scenario in front of him. 

John thanked Mrs Hudson when she gave the boy a bowl of ice cream. John grabbed his utensil and took a spoonful of his ice cream, not really feeling a trickle of red warm liquid dripping out of his nose. The boy started to feel something running down his lip so, he grabbed a napkin and wiped his nose when he noticed that the unmistakeable red color that signified blood was staining the napkin in his hand. 

John pushed his seat back, clutching onto his nose and pressing the napkin against his skin as he entered the kitchen. Sherlock became worried for the boy and watched as John disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Mrs Hudson, ice?” 

Mrs Hudson pointed ahead. “In the fridge dearie.” 

Sherlock didn’t pay attention to the conversation taking place, instead his eyes observed the empty seat next to him. 

The boy reached the fridge and opened it to find ice but all he found was frozen meat. John groaned and closed the fridge as he went towards the pantry, where he had a mini fridge in the corner. He opened it and thankfully, there was a bowl filled with ice inside. The boy grabbed three pieces of ice and wrapped them into the napkin he had in his hand and pressed the cold compress against his nose. 

John felt a bit lightheaded and stumbled towards the corner, where he sluggishly slid down to the ground and closed his eyes as he rested his head against the wall behind him. 

Sherlock looked at the watch on his wrist and noticed that the boy was gone for a while now, a bit too long for his liking, so, he excused himself from the table and went to find John. 

Sherlock passed by the kitchen and whispered. “John?” He looked to his right and saw the boy slumped on the floor, clutching onto his nose. “John.” 

John opened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock, a drowsy look settling on his features. 

“Are you all right?” Sherlock asked. 

The boy removed the ice from his nose. “Sit for a second.” 

Sherlock entered the small pantry. “If you insist.” 

Sherlock slid down onto the floor, being uncomfortable for a bit as he tried to readjust himself in the small pantry, accommodating his long legs in the limited space provided. 

“Was this my fault?” Sherlock questioned. 

John smiled sheepishly. “No.” He looked down at the bloody stained napkin and sighed. “I’m a mess.” 

Sherlock reached for the boy’s hand. “Well, kitchen table sure is.” The man studied John’s hand and unhurriedly brought the boy’s fingertips to his Cupid bow lips. “John.” Sherlock said as he kissed his way down John’s fingers. “This can’t work.” 

The boy felt himself melting as Sherlock continued pressing kisses to each finger, even if the show of affection was small, John found it endearing. “Why?” He whispered. 

“I’m not good at these things. Sentiment, affection… caring. Its not something I’m familiar with.” 

The boy smiled as Sherlock licked his index finger and gave a tender suck to it. “You’re doing good so far.” 

Sherlock snorted as he continued to suck on John’s fingers. 

The boy gave the man a beloved look, his features became soft as he realized that John would do anything for Sherlock. If he had to give up his home, he would. If he had to climb the highest mountain, he would. If he had to give up his freedom, then he would. If Sherlock asked him to be his, he would give himself completely, just as long as he belonged to Sherlock. 

John gave the man a look that said, tell me Sherlock, tell me what I have to do to be yours, please. I‘d do anything… anything. 

“Is it me?” The boy asked, not fully understanding why Sherlock didn’t want this. 

Sherlock left wet traces on the back of John’s hand, something of what he associated as claiming the boy, even though his trace was invisible. “Its not you.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“You don’t want me, John.” 

“But I do.” 

Sherlock kissed the inside of John’s hand. “No, you don’t.” 

“What do I have to do to make you see that I just want you with me?” 

Sherlock released the boy’s hand and cupped John’s face, not caring whether the boy had blood pouring out of his nose. Delicately, Sherlock traced his lips over John’s cheek and then his plump lips consumed the boy’s mouth. Sherlock placed his pale hand against John’s tanned skin, the contrast of their skin was beautifully noticeable. The boy’s fingers crawled towards the man’s dark curls as Sherlock’s nimble fingers pressed against John’s neck, leaving behind momentary marks that whitened the boy’s golden kissed skin. 

Sherlock pressed his tongue against John’s and relished in the boy’s moans as he captured John’s upper lip, while the boy sucked on Sherlock’s fleshy bottom lip. 

Sherlock pulled away, going in for one last peck. “I want you too, I really do but I can’t hurt you.” He lingered a bit on John’s lips as his thumb rubbed across the boy’s cheek. “I just can’t.” 

With that, Sherlock picked himself up and exited the small pantry, leaving John behind.


	7. Can’t Stand The Silence

Sherlock left B., he grabbed his bike from its resting place and slipped on his shades as he mounted his bicycle. As he began to pedal his way out of the B., he came across Greg. 

Greg halted his bike as he faced Sherlock. “Hey mate, have you seen John?” 

“He’s inside, he had a bit of a nosebleed, so, he’s just resting now.” 

Greg smiled as he began to head inside B. “Thanks mate.” 

Sherlock quickly nodded and pushed himself to move forward, craving a faraway space between him and John. 

Greg parked his bike outside and entered B., popping his head inside every room until he found John. 

John was in the living room, laying on the couch, leaning his head back as he continued to press the wrapped ice on his nose. 

Greg entered the living room. “John. Damn, you look like shit.” 

John chuckled as he readjusted the ice to see his friend. “Nice to see you too.” 

Greg laughed as he sat down on the floor and pressed his back against the couch, taking out a packet of cigarettes and offering one to the boy. 

“Where’s Sherlock?” John asked. 

Greg looked at the boy. “Ran into him outside. Don’t know where he was heading off too.” 

John nodded as he looked up at the ceiling and inhaled the bittersweet taste of tar into his lungs. 

Greg turned around and rested his forearms on the free space provided by the boy on the couch. “John. What’s going on?” 

John tilted his head to the side, facing Greg. Honestly, the boy swore that Greg had a sixth sense stored somewhere, alerting Greg that John was either feeling down or the boy was bothered by something. 

“We kissed.” 

“Who?” 

John gave Greg a pointed look and his friend made an ‘oh’ shape sound with his mouth and wiggled his eyebrows. “You and Sherlock… kissed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I thought you hated the man?” 

The boy chuckled. “I thought I did too. Now, I’m not so sure.” 

“So, what’s this?” 

“What’s what?” 

Greg gestured towards John’s slumped form on the couch. “This. I thought it would be good news that you’re snogging this bloke. Why are we feeling sad?” 

The boy turned his gaze away from Greg. “Its complicated.” 

Greg sensed that John didn’t want to continue this conversation so he steered away from the topic. “Things will sort themselves out. I can promise you that.” 

The boy faced his friend again. “You think I’m stupid for feeling this way?” 

Greg rolled his eyes as he picked himself up and squashed John to the side as he laid with the boy on the couch. “No. You can feel whatever you want. And its none of my business what you do or feel. But I do hate seeing you sad.” He got up and slapped John’s leg. “Come on, lets go down to the lake and have fun. Might help take your mind off things.” 

The boy smiled, he really did consider Greg to be his best friend and was grateful for the good friendship that lasted between them. John followed Greg out of B. and made their way down to the lake. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was holding his breath underwater as he tried to alleviate his jumbled mind that was filled with knots and clumps. When he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, the boy would emerge from the teal colored water and take deep breaths as he felt the lost waves of oxygen chilling his lungs. 

He wiped his hand across his face, clearing away the water droplets running down his skin. John looked behind him and noticed that his friends were far away from him, somehow, he managed to swim deeper into the lake, lengthening the distance between him and the other busy bodies having fun. 

It was fine by the boy, to be apart from his friends for he didn’t want to join any forced conversations that would make him impatient and would follow by a random excuse for leaving. He wanted to be alone, he needed to be alone, so he swam a bit further until his friends were nothing but blurry blobs in the distance. 

John turned his gaze ahead, looking at the water that was constantly moving around him. Unknowingly, his cobalt blue eyes were searching for Sherlock. Of course, he knew that it was a ridiculous notion but a part of his brain was begging… pleading for Sherlock to appear as he randomly did at times. 

He scanned the whole area, praying that a bushel of ebony curls would catch his eye or the prospect of having his vision marveling at the pale skin that sparkled with a mind-blowing contrast that always captured John’s attention. The boy kept hoping that Sherlock would show himself and offer John an escape route from his friends. An escape from reality that was all too familiar for the boy, instead, he preferred a new reality that consisted of Sherlock. 

But as John kept searching for the man, he realized that he wouldn’t find Sherlock anywhere. 

So, the boy mustered up his disappointment and closed his eyes as he let himself slip underneath the water again, hoping to drown out the world around him. And it would be even better if John could forget about his existence, that way, his wounded soul wouldn’t hurt as much. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Once John had his fun, he said goodbye to Greg and made his way back to B. The boy changed into a comfy pair of shorts along with a white T-shirt and began to explore his home, looking for Sherlock. 

As expected, John didn’t find him. 

The boy grabbed a smoothie that Mrs Hudson made for him and went outside, where his mother was sitting on a bench and reading. 

“Where’s Sherlock?” John asked his mother from afar. 

Sybil looked up at the sound of her son’s voice speaking to her. “Didn’t he go out?” 

The boy shrugged his shoulders as Mrs Hudson appeared by his side, holding a glass jug filled with a bright colored smoothie that consisted of apricots and mangoes. “Sybil, do you want a smoothie?” 

“No, thank you, Mrs Hudson. We’ll have dinner soon and I’ll drink something by that time.” Sybil smiled. 

“Of course.” Mrs Hudson began to walk back to the kitchen. 

“I’m going out tonight.” John said to Mrs Hudson. 

Mrs Hudson rested her free hand on her hip. “Don’t make me worry, young man.” 

“What are you talking about? What are you talking about?!” The boy questioned. 

Mrs Hudson faced Sybil. “He should be resting.” 

Sybil waved her hand. “Let him do his own thing.” 

“Alright.” Mrs Hudson returned to the kitchen. 

John walked towards his mother, quietly sulking to himself. “Why’s she hassling me? I’m 17.” The boy said as he sat next to his mother. 

Sybil chuckled. “She’s worried about you.” 

The boy rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his smoothie while his mother curiously eyed him. 

“You like him, don’t you? Sherlock?” Mrs Watson asked with a kind smile. 

John shrugged. “What’s not to like about him?” 

“I think he likes you too. More than you do.” 

The boy looked at his mother as he tried to decipher whether she knew about the kiss Sherlock and him shared or if she knew about the unspoken feelings he had towards the man. “Is that your impression?” 

“No, he told me.” 

John felt his heart lurch out of his chest. “When did he say that?” 

Sybil caressed her son’s cheek. “A while ago.” 

The boy bit the inside of his cheek and held onto his mother’s hand while looking up at the blue sky above him. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The day went by quickly and the sunny bright day that illuminated Italy was now descending into a darker realm where the skies were black and a full moon was making its appearance. 

John sat on the steps behind B., where the trees covered him as he scribbled inside his notebook, waiting for Sherlock to show up. Then the boy detected sluggish movements ahead of him but to his disappointment, it was only Mrs Hudson returning from the market. 

“Mrs Hudson, do you know where Sherlock is?” John asked. 

Mrs Hudson adjusted the basket in her hands and faced the boy. “I have no idea, dearie.” 

John shook his head at the undesired response he received and threw his notebook to the side as he rested his elbows on his knees, and cradled his head. He looked everywhere, trying to find Sherlock but the man was so unpredictable that the boy didn’t even know where to start looking for Sherlock. 

John brought his head up and rested his hands underneath his chin as he tried to understand what he did wrong to have Sherlock avoid him or what he should do to make things better between them. It made the boy ache inside, knowing that Sherlock was not by his side. 

As much as he hated to admit it, he became fond of the idea of Sherlock and him together but at the same time, he despised how Sherlock dared to give him a glimpse of what happiness could be or how happiness can be shared between them. 

But without Sherlock, how could happiness work? 

John leaned back, resting his palms behind him as he looked down at the ground, forcing himself to stop feeling this emptiness inside his heart. Whatever that was plaguing him, he begged it to have mercy, he implored for the annihilation of the pain that manifested throughout his body. 

At times, he wished… no, he yearned for the absence of Sherlock arriving in Italy, for if the man never came here, the boy’s heart would still be in tact. He preferred to have a functioning heart than the one crumbling to pieces inside his chest. 

John exhaled loudly and picked himself up from the ground and headed towards his room, where he removed his shirt and sat at his desk, turning on the small lamp beside him. The soft light that emitted from the lightbulb danced off the boy’s shoulders and chest, illuminating his muscles and producing dark shadows that accentuated his skinned tan even further. 

John sat at his desk for hours and hours, waiting until he decided to rest his head against his hands and close his eyes. 

Then a loud bang from downstairs awoke the boy, he waited until he heard the soft whispers of audible steps being taken and the arrival of someone approaching Sherlock’s door. A door was being swung open and more steps were being taken, he heard the man making his way into the bathroom. 

John jumped out of his seat and laid himself on the bed, resting himself on his back as he tilted his head to the side while hearing Sherlock approaching the toilet. 

The door that connected the boy’s room to the bathroom was open and John could clearly hear Sherlock unzipping his trousers and proceeding to relieve himself. 

The boy knitted his eyebrows together as he heard Sherlock’s urine touching the clear toilet water. John waited patiently for Sherlock to finish and once the man concluded his business in the bathroom, Sherlock flushed the toilet and closed the door that led into the boy’s room. 

John chuckled as he whispered. “Traitor.” 

The hopes of Sherlock entering his room were slim and the boy turned to lay on his side, while turning off the lamp beside him and going to sleep. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The next morning, John wore a pair of light blue jeans, white converse, and a pink striped button up shirt. The boy stepped out of B. and looked up at the windows facing the patch of grass he was currently walking on but John’s attention was captured by the middle window that belonged to Sherlock’s room. 

John took a few steps when he caught a glimpse of Sherlock passing by the window and disappearing inside his room, the dark curls were the only image that the boy had before the man hid away from his view. 

John scratched the back of his head and longingly stared up at the window when he decided to not spend the day at home; he couldn’t, not with the way Sherlock avoided him. The boy decided to visit Greg and spend the entire day with his friend, at least his mind could be distracted for a bit. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock quickly caught a glimpse of John walking past his window and frowned when he deduced that the boy would not spend the day at B. 

Like a relentless force pushing Sherlock away, he needed to go from this place and find a space where he could think without being distracted by John’s lovely presence. Sherlock placed on his dark trousers, a tight white dress shirt, and dress shoes. 

He went outside to grab the bike leaning against the wall, deciding to revisit the place he journeyed to yesterday. 

The peaceful bike ride there took a while but the man had the entire day to waste, so time was not a problem to him. 

Sherlock arrived at the familiar secluded spot that was once inhabited by John and himself, since the boy brought him to the small creek, he couldn’t prevent himself from coming back and enjoying the serenity this place provided. He removed his shoes and socks while rolling up his trousers to his knees and stepping into the freezing cold water, and began to walk where John once stood, when the boy asked him if he was willing to give whatever they had… a chance. 

Sherlock buried his feet deep into the grainy sand beneath him and closed his eyes, not knowing what to think about and not even close to determining what he should do about the boy and him. 

“Trying to catch a cold, brother mine.” 

Sherlock opened his eyes and turned around at the familiar voice invading his ears. “Oh, for god sakes. Are you kidding me?” 

Mycroft leaned against his umbrella, purposefully displaying his recently purchased suit and smiling at hearing the annoyance laced inside his brother’s voice. “No, actually.” 

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock sneered. 

“I told you, I have eyes on you. And I thought I made it clear, to not get involved with a boy named John Watson.” 

“You traveled from London to Italy to advise me to not be involved. May I say, that’s a waste of a trip. A call would have sufficed.” 

Mycroft banged his umbrella against the ground. “Dammit, Sherlock! Do you have any idea what you’re doing with this boy?” 

“That’s none of your business.” 

“It is my business. Sherlock, he’s a minor. I have endured your brief fiasco with all the drug addictions you acquired in London but I will not stand to see you become —“ 

Sherlock felt his irritation hitting the roof and snapped at his brother. “Its not about the age! It was never about the age, Mycroft! I’m not involved because he’s a minor or because I have this sick pleasure of chasing after boys! Age makes no difference to me and neither does it make any difference to him!” 

Mycroft remained emotionless. “Listen to yourself, the essence of that boy basically reeks off you.” 

“And what if it does?” 

“You’re leaving Italy, today. I have a plane ready, lets go get your things.” Mycroft said as he turned to walk away. 

Sherlock remained frozen. “I’m not leaving.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, I’m staying here for six weeks and I will remain here until those six weeks are over.” 

Mycroft glared at his brother, sending poisoned daggers along his way. “Sherlock, caring is not an advantage. I’m offering you a chance to escape this mess before your…” The next word tasted like vinegar in his mouth. “Feelings for this boy increases.” 

Sherlock placed his hands behind his back. “I don’t consider this a mess. If only you understood everything, if only you’d understand that this is not a mess to me. It never was. Clearly, you won’t comprehend what I’m saying because someone of your stature has never found their… oh, what was it that you called it? Ah yes, says someone who hasn’t found their goldfish yet.” 

Mycroft laughed. “I’m lonely, Sherlock. And because I’m not lonely, I take full advantage of helping you out of the hole you dug yourself into.” 

Sherlock turned his back to his brother. “Leave, Mycroft. I can handle this by myself.” 

Mycroft bit the inside of his cheek. “Fine. But know that this is the last time I’m offering you my help.” 

“I never asked for your help, Mycroft.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Mycroft was driving back to the airport, it would be a long drive, so he pulled over and exited his vehicle. He went over the diverse outcomes consisting of Sherlock and John Watson but he knew, that this bond wouldn’t end nicely and that’s precisely what Mycroft wanted Sherlock to see. But of course, his brother was an idiot. 

Greg was on his bike going home when he saw a fancy car parked to the side and a man leaning against it, looking a bit lost. He halted his bike. “You lost, mister?” 

Mycroft looked up at the voice speaking to him. “No, thank you.” 

“You’re not from here, are you?” Greg asked as he eyed the man’s expensive looking clothes. 

Mycroft chuckled. “Am I that obvious?” 

“A bit.” Greg found the man attractive. “Leaving so soon?” 

“Yes, I have to catch a plane in two hours.” 

“Its too bad you couldn’t stay a bit longer.” 

Mycroft eyed the boy, he didn’t deny that the boy was beautiful. “Why would I stay longer?” 

Greg shrugged his shoulders. “Why would you stay longer? Maybe to find your goldfish that’s lost in the sea.” He smiled as he approached the man. “I’m Greg.” 

Mycroft’s brain came to a halt when the boy said goldfish and felt the world spinning uncontrollably. “Mycroft.” He said as he shook the boy’s hand. 

Greg smiled as he began to bike away from the man leaning against the car. He looked over his shoulder. “It was nice to meet you.” 

Mycroft looked down at his hand, to which the boy touched a few seconds ago and lifted his gaze to observe Greg’s retreating form. “Likewise.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John spent somewhat of the entire day with Greg, when afternoon came, Greg needed to leave and visit a family relative. So, the boy bid his friend farewell and rode his bike home. 

As John made his way to B., he parked his bike outside and headed towards his room, where he locked himself in for the rest of the day. 

Night approached and the boy hadn’t emerged from his room. Due to the constant repetition of dozing on and off throughout the day, John missed the sound of the slight click that emitted from Sherlock’s door opening and closing. 

When the boy woke up, he was greeted by the black night outside, so he switched on the lamp on his desk and grabbed a notepad. He decided to write a note to Sherlock. So, John started by writing different lines and scribbling them out, crumpling the paper into a ball and tossing it on the floor. 

  
  
Please don’t avoid me. 

It kills me. 

Can’t stand thinking you hate me. 

Your silence is killing me. 

I’d sooner die than know you hate me. 

I am such a pussy. 

  
  
The boy read the last line he wrote and frowned. “Way over the top.” 

John sat up straighter in his seat and proceeded to write a better message. 

  
  
Can’t stand the silence. Need to speak to you. 

  
  
The boy read over the two lines he wrote and nodded as he ripped the piece of paper from its bindings and approached the door that connected his room with Sherlock’s, and slid the note beneath the door. 

On the other side of the room, Sherlock was laid on his back as he made his prayer like stance and transported himself to his mind palace. 

John turned off the lamp in his room and went to sleep, hoping that the next morning, Sherlock would read his note. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The next morning arrived sooner than expected. 

John was already up and about, he placed on a pink and blue striped T-shirt with navy blue shorts. He emerged from the library and wondered what he should do today. 

Sherlock was up as well, he waited by the top of the stairs, expecting to see the boy emerge from the library in any moment. 

Then he saw John’s blond hair shining due to the sliver of sun shining through the house. “Did someone have a good night last night?” 

The boy looked up at the man by the stair railing. “Not really.” 

Sherlock came down the stairs when Professor Watson emerged from the library as well. “John, you must be tired, then. Were you playing poker with Greg last night?” His father asked with a smile, knowing that the boy never cared for playing poker. 

John snorted. “I don’t play poker.” 

The boy reached for the stair railing and went up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time and reaching the second floor. 

Sherlock watched as John went up the stairs, a downy look spreading all over his features as he observed the boy disappearing from his view. 

“In order to complete my manuscript, we need to do an experiment and justify the results to prove my point is correct. We should start now, that’ll keep us busy till lunch, I imagine.” Evan said as he began to walk away. 

“Of course.” 

Professor Watson led the way to his lab and Sherlock followed behind him. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock and Professor Watson were inside a lab, they both had on goggles, lab coats, gloves, and a notebook to write down the results. 

Sherlock finished adding the last liquid for the experiment and jotted down the results immediately, once the chemicals were reacting. The chemical reactions of the liquids blended together began to bubble weakly when a staggering orange/red color blossomed. There were tiny hints of a glossy surface forming, making the result even more alluring. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Evan asked. 

Sherlock nodded his head as he kept writing down the results. “The result will continue to change during the next seven seconds?” 

“Yes. Since there are so many different components combined together, there will be a persistent ever-changing factor that will purposefully morph the prior outcome into a new solution.” 

As Professor Watson and Sherlock continued to scrutinize the result, John reached his room and eyed his belongings that were all in place, when his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 

There was a note on his desk. 

The folded piece of paper was laying on top of his music sheets, so the boy reached for it. As he unfolded it, he noticed that it was the note he wrote last night to Sherlock, the only difference was the addition of the new set of handwriting underneath the words he wrote. The boy read the message to himself. 

  
  
Grow up. I’ll see you at midnight. 

  
  
John closed his eyes and twirled in a circle as he sat down on the bed, reading the note again. He folded the paper in half and pressed it against his lips, almost trying to absorb the words with his lips as he repeated the words again, this time, out loud. 

  
  
“Grow up. I’ll see you at midnight.” 

  
  
The boy looked at the watch on his wrist and realized that he had hours to kill before it was midnight. John threw himself back on the mattress and rested the note on his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling. 

Sherlock kept writing the results in the notebook. “Funny, how simple liquids can be sensually mixed together and the outcome will result into a pulchritudinous solution yet dangerous when exposed to the human skin.” 

Evan smiled. “That’s the beauty of chemistry. Being able to manipulate components that are visually unappealing and converting them into majestic creations that are impossible to touch with your bare fingers or in some cases, consume it. Its as if these solutions are purposefully daring you to desire them, knowing perfectly well that you can’t touch them. But, if you find an alternative method to touch it, then you can appreciate the delicacy of finally feeling it against your skin.” 

Sherlock looked up from his notes and stared at the professor, wondering if the man was trying to tell him something that involved John or maybe, Sherlock was misinterpreting the message Evan was giving to him.


	8. Keep Your Eyes Fixed On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very proud of this chapter as well! 
> 
> Enjoy!

John was sprawled over the couch like a cat, he was across the lab that Sherlock and his father were currently occupying. The boy remained silent as he heard the constant waves of their voices escaping the lab and bouncing off the walls. 

John decided to lay on his side, burying his face in the pillow next to him, not really knowing what to do with himself, secretly begging for a distraction until midnight made its appearance. 

As if his calling was heard, his mother approached him and asked the boy if he would help her set the dining table outside. 

As they proceeded to fix the table, Sherlock and Evan finished their experiment and joined Sybil and John for their daily brunch. 

“Don’t forget.” Mrs Watson reminded the boy. “Issac and Mounir are coming for dinner.” 

John looked at his watch as he smirked. “Also know as Sonny and Cher.” He said to Sherlock. 

“Okay.” Professor Watson said as he took a sip of his coffee. 

Sherlock chuckled as he took a bite of his croissant, already feeling full even though that’s the only food he’s eaten so far. 

“I’d like you to wear that shirt they gave you for your birthday.” Sybil said to the boy. 

John shook his head. “No.” 

“Darling, they got it for you in Miami.” Sybil reminded the boy. 

John shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry. Its too small.” 

“Come on. It will make them so happy.” 

The boy kept shaking his head at his mother. “It looks ridiculous on me. I’ll try it on for Sherlock. If Sherlock thinks I look like a bloated hedgehog in it, I’m not wearing it.” 

Mrs Watson faced Sherlock. “Sherlock?” 

Sherlock wiped away the butter that resided on his lips. “By all means.” 

Before John got up, Sherlock grabbed the boy’s wrist, preventing him from leaving the table as he asked. “What time is it?” 

John looked at his watch. “Its 2:00.” 

Sherlock released the boy and lovingly watched John as the boy disappeared, leaving him and Sybil alone at the table. 

Sherlock cleaned his hands with the napkin next to him and faced Mrs Watson. “Well… later.” 

“Later.” Sybil smiled as Sherlock abandoned the table. 

As Sherlock retreated himself from the table, he entered the kitchen where he found Mrs Hudson fixing the dishes. “Mrs Hudson.” 

Mrs Hudson jumped at the sudden deep voice appearing behind her. “Sherlock, dearie. What can I do for you?” 

“I won’t be here for dinner.” 

“Alright dearie.” 

Sherlock smiled as he exited the kitchen and reached for his bike. He left B. when he crossed paths with Greg again. 

Greg smiled. “Hey mate.” 

“Hello.” Sherlock greeted as he pedaled away from B. 

Greg entered B. and parked his bike to the side as he went to find John. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John and Greg were inside the pool, enjoying a nice swim. For the first couple of hours, they splashed water towards each other and tackled one another in the water. After the exhausting activities in the water, the two boys simply floated on their backs as they heard the birds singing above them and felt the sun shining on their skins. 

“John, I’ve got to tell you something.” Greg said as he approached his friend. 

The boy opened his eyes as he faced Greg. “You shagged somebody yesterday.” 

“What? No. Its better than that.” 

“What?” 

Greg smiled as he prepared to tell his friend about the new movements in his life. “Well, I met someone, his name is Mycroft. You know how I told you yesterday I had to go visit my cousin, which is why I couldn’t spend the entire day with you. Well, on my way back, I stumbled onto this bloke and the next thing you know, he shows up at my house and gives me his number. Since yesterday, we’ve been talking.” 

John wiggled his eyebrows. “Is it going anywhere?” 

“I hope so. He’s really handsome and sweet. A bit posh but I do think that our conversations will go farther.” 

The boy smiled and hugged his friend. “I’m happy for you. Just don’t get laid right now.” 

Greg chuckled. “Well, technically we can’t because he’s not here in Italy.” 

“Where is he?” 

“London.” 

John frowned. “But you guys are still willing to talk to each other even though the distance between you guys is great?” 

Greg smiled. “Yeah. It makes me happy.” 

The boy wondered how things came so easily to Greg, how his friend always had the option of taking the easier route instead of the painful one John endured with Sherlock. To be truthful, the boy was bit envious of Greg, his friend never had the habit of overthinking situations or ever participating in the sticky circumstances that involved complicated relationships. 

But why would John start complaining? 

He had Sherlock now… or at least, in a couple of hours, Sherlock would be his. 

Unconsciously, the boy looked at the time on his wrist and realized that Greg and him were in the pool for three hours. 

“John. John.” 

John looked up at his friend. “Yeah.” 

“Why do you keep looking at your watch?” 

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “No reason.” 

“Bullshit.” 

John snorted. “Fine. But this stays between us.” 

Greg lifted his hand to his chest. “I cross my heart and hope to die.” 

“I’m seeing Sherlock at midnight tonight.” 

Greg made a surprised face. “So, you guys are back on?” 

“I guess so.” 

“Are you nervous?” 

The boy slapped the water gently. “I’m terrified.” 

Greg approached his friend and rested his hand on John’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t be. You’ll be fine.” 

The boy smiled at the comforting words his friend offered and decided to force Greg into a water fight, taking advantage of wasting more time before Greg had to leave. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The two boys exited the pool and made their way to the front of B., where the invited dinner guests arrived. John smiled as he ran to greet the couple that he’s known all his life. Greg followed behind, greeting the two men with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

The couple embraced John and Greg, they paid Greg many compliments due to his growth spurt and how he turned out to a good-looking boy. Greg blushed for a bit and made his excuses to leave, which John stopped him, asking if he wanted to join them for dinner. 

Greg politely declined the nice offer and hugged his friend goodbye, whispering to the boy. “Good luck.” 

John smiled as he waved his friend goodbye, then showing the couple inside before excusing himself to go to his room, where he found his father rummaging through his closet. 

The boy rolled his eyes as he removed his shirt over his head. “I can’t put it on now. They’ve already met me.” 

Evan faced his son. “Yes, you can.” 

“It’ll look like a put-up job.” 

Professor Watson pointed his finger at John. “No misbehaving tonight. No… no laughing. When I tell you to play, you’ll play. You’re too old not to accept people for who they are. What’s wrong with them? You call them Sonny and Cher behind their backs.” 

“That’s what mom calls them!” The boy argued back. 

“Then you accept gifts from them. The only person that reflects badly on is you. Is it because they’re gay or because they are ridiculous?” Evan chuckled as he found the shirt that would be forced to be worn by John. “Now, just get into this, you.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Evan and Sybil were chatting with the couple outside, sharing a few laughs and drinking champagne. 

Then John made his entrance, sliding between where his mother and father stood as he showed off the button up shirt which was navy blue with pale pink flowers all over it. The boy never understood how delicious he looked in that shirt. 

He showed off the shirt for a bit and basked in the compliments thrown his way before they proceeded to enjoy the tasty dinner waiting for them. Then they talked for a few hours, savoring the wine being served. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Later after dinner, John was playing the piano, generating a soft piece that he wrote for the couple. 

Evan, Sybil, Issac, and Mounir were huddled around the boy, listening to the enchanting music spilling from John’s fingers. Everyone fell in love with the tune being played and the boy continued to gently press the keys when he looked up and saw Sherlock staring at him. 

Sherlock gave the boy a small smile and went upstairs. 

John never tore his gaze away from the man as he played the last few notes for everyone, ending the piece with a light touch. The boy stretched his arms over his head as everyone gave him a round of applause for demonstrating his unique talent. 

“Sorry. I have to go to bed. I’m sorry. I’m so tired.” John said as he faced his father. 

“Thank you.” Evan kissed the top of the boy’s hair. “Go get some rest.” 

John got up from the piano bench and kissed his mother goodnight when his father reminded him of the watch resting on the piano. The boy thanked his father and grabbed the watch, while kissing his father goodnight and proceeding to replicate the same actions to the couple before him. 

John made his way upstairs and went into the bathroom to relieve himself. Once he finished, he washed his hands when he heard loud laughter outside. He walked towards the window and saw that his father and mother were saying goodbye to the couple. 

The boy continued watching his parents until they disappeared from his sight. Then he looked to his right and that’s when he saw Sherlock on the balcony across from him. Sherlock was looking down at B. while smoking a cigarette. 

John stared at the man for a bit before he removed himself from the bathroom window. He opened the door that led to Sherlock’s room and walked through the empty space as he opened the door that led to the hallway. 

The boy stood in the hallway as he observed Sherlock, the man’s back was towards him. John took deep breaths as he remained glued to his position, clenching and unclenching his fists as he mustered up the courage to walk towards Sherlock. 

The boy opened the door that led to the balcony at the end of the hallway, eliciting a slight creak that caught Sherlock’s attention. 

Sherlock turned around and faced John, a small smile crinkling at the end of his lips. 

The boy kept his gaze ahead as he approached the railing on the balcony, placing both hands on the metal, forcing himself to believe that this moment was real and none of this was his imagination. John avoided turning his gaze towards Sherlock, not wanting to show how scared he was but the next words spoken by Sherlock put him at ease… for a bit. 

Sherlock kept his gaze fixed on the boy standing next to him. “I’m glad you came.” He said in a gentle whisper. 

Unsurely, Sherlock tentatively reached towards John’s hand, where it rested snuggly on the metal railing. A cigarette was in between Sherlock’s index and middle finger as the man enveloped his pale hand over the boy’s tanned one. 

The touch was so benign that the boy closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of Sherlock’s hand. 

Sherlock didn’t remove his sight from John as he rubbed his thumb over the boy’s soft skin. 

Immediately, John tightened his grip on the railing as he dared to look at the connection between their hands. His eyes relished in the image of Sherlock holding his hand, it felt surreal but wonderful. The boy looked up at Sherlock and felt himself becoming more happier as Sherlock’s eyes exposed his emotions, the man was scared as well. 

“Yeah, I’m nervous.” John said as he turned to look away. 

Sherlock chuckled lightly as he cupped the boy’s face, rubbing his nose delicately against John’s as he murmured. “Me too.” 

Then the boy released the railing and slipped away from Sherlock’s hold as he headed towards the man’s room. Sherlock followed John, both taking weak steps, not wanting to seize anyone’s attention. 

With a great success, they entered Sherlock’s room without waking up anyone. Sherlock slowly closed the door behind him as he leaned against the door and smoked his cigarette. 

John stood at the end of the bed, clutching onto the bed frame from behind, not knowing what to do. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” He whispered. “Its nice.” 

Sherlock approached the boy, he was about to stub out his cigarette when the boy reached for the cigarette and inhaled it a few times, filling his lungs with tar before stubbing out the cigarette for Sherlock. 

Sherlock leaned against the bed frame, standing relatively close to John while observing the boy. 

John kept his head down while stubbing out the cigarette. Sherlock took the chance to lean forward, smelling the boy’s blond hair, which reminded the man of the sun. 

Then John lifted his head and looked down at the ground, leaning against Sherlock as he softly nudged his nose against Sherlock’s shoulder and smelling the lovely cologne that only belonged to Sherlock. 

Sherlock smiled as he watched the boy nudge him, taking the opportunity to bury his cheek against John’s hair. 

The boy benevolently pulled away as he returned his gaze to the ground. 

Sherlock came closer. “Are you okay?” 

John shook his head and smiled up at the man. “Me okay.” 

The boy pushed himself off the bed frame and walked towards the desk adjacent to him, where he looked up at the dark sky and exhaled quietly as he faced Sherlock. John stood in front of Sherlock and pressed his head against Sherlock’s shoulder while placing his entire body against Sherlock. 

Sherlock embraced the boy, wrapping his long arms around John and chuckling when he felt the boy trying to climb onto him. John enveloped his arms around Sherlock’s slender neck and rejoiced in the silent seconds of having Sherlock holding him tightly. 

Then the boy pulled away, he threw his head back as Sherlock slid his nose up and down John’s throat, planting tiny kisses against the warm skin. The boy brought his head back down and faced Sherlock, both cupping their faces as they breathed each other in, losing themselves in their blue eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” Sherlock questioned. 

“Yes, please.” 

John closed his eyes as he felt Sherlock holding onto his neck, indolently grazing his lips against the boy’s jawline, languidly kissing his cheek, and placing a lingering kiss on John’s forehead. Sherlock took all the time he needed, not rushing the moment for he wanted to hold onto this memory for as long as he lived. 

Sherlock wanted to savor the boy’s skin, have it engraved into his heart so that he would never forget how John felt against his lips. He ran his nimble fingers through the boy’s blond hair as he placed a quick kiss against John’s throat when the man pulled away, teasing the boy. 

John pulled Sherlock back into his embrace, sharing a few chuckles as the boy jumped on the man, climbing the long limbs that belonged to Sherlock. 

Then the two broke away from the affectionate embracement, heading towards the bed to sit their bums down. 

Sherlock removed his shoes, wiggling his toes. They were both barefoot. Gradually, John slid his foot across the floor to reach Sherlock’s foot. Then he rested his toes on top of Sherlock’s, moaning in pleasure. 

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked. 

John shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing.” 

They both watched as their feet touched each other, the warmth of their skin flooding onto one another. Their heads were close to each other, the different texture corresponding to their hair kept grazing against each other. 

Sherlock looked at the boy. “Does this make you happy?” 

John nodded, not looking into the man’s eyes. 

“You’re not going get a nosebleed on me, are you?” Sherlock jokingly asked. 

The boy faced Sherlock as he pushed the man back. “I’m not gonna get a nosebleed, you git.” 

They both chuckled as John settled himself over Sherlock’s lap, his thighs at either side of the man’s legs. Sherlock dragged his long pale hands up and down the boy’s back, feeling the muscle that hide beneath John’s shirt. Then his hands came down to caress John’s bum, giving the flesh a tight squeeze before his hands wandered their way up again. 

Sherlock had his face pressed against the boy’s stomach, rumbling deeply against the clothed skin as he inhaled John’s scent, which was always so comforting. The deep vibrations against the boy’s stomach made John’s skin ripple into goosebumps. The boy played with Sherlock’s curls, constantly pressing gentle kisses on the man’s hair. 

Their hands fumbled against one another, the touch becoming desperate as their fingers delved into the sensation of feeling nothing but skin against skin. Which caused them to press their bodies even closer together, desiring the opportunity to feel as one. Then John came down to Sherlock’s level, their faces against one another as they looked into each other’s eyes. 

Their breaths were washing over their skin as they opened their mouths, capturing their lips in an awaited kiss. The kiss was passionate and lethargic, the taste that intermixed between their lips was a craving that longed to be savored. Sherlock cupped the boy’s face, bringing him closer as he pressed his body flush against John’s, not daring to let the boy go. 

John felt the same, he never wanted to release this man, he desired to have Sherlock like this… always. The boy buried his fingers in Sherlock’s long curls, threading through the smooth strands as he rubbed himself against the man, proving to Sherlock that he wanted to be felt by him and wishing to have every part of his body belonging to Sherlock only. 

The heat between them was becoming distracting, so the boy fumbled against the fabric on his skin, lifting his shirt over his head. 

Sherlock agreed with the removal of John’s shirt so, he helped push the fabric away from the boy’s skin. “Off, off, off, off, off.” The man repeated as he managed to help the boy with taking off his shirt. 

Finally, the shirt was off of John’s torso and flung across the room. 

Immediately, Sherlock held onto the boy’s back as he buried his face into the sun kissed skin, peppering John’s abdomens with hungry kisses, nipping the firm muscle with his teeth as his tongue trailed up the boy’s skin. 

It became extremely hot and Sherlock couldn’t bear the layer of clothes covering his skin. He needed to strip himself bare. Sherlock pulled his shirt up by the collar and John tried to help the man but fell to the side, landing on the mattress below him as Sherlock quickly removed his shirt. Then Sherlock faced the boy, pressing his full lips against John’s stomach, planting wet kisses along the skin and making his way up to the boy’s chest. 

Sherlock firmly planted his knees into the mattress, engulfing John’s sides as the boy closed his eyes and moaned shamelessly. Then Sherlock sat up as he removed his trousers while John remained in between his legs, the boy watched with anticipation as Sherlock shrugged off his trousers and revealed his cock. There was no doubt that the man was lengthy but the boy never cared much for size. Yet, seeing Sherlock bare and vulnerable, was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen. 

John quickly removed his pants and exposed his cock as well, the extent of his organ was growing and becoming hard. Sherlock looked down at the uncovered boy and stared into John’s eyes, begging if he could rub himself against the boy’s cock. John silently nodded as Sherlock lowered himself, like a cautious child scared to pet a dog. Then the two groaned when their erect cocks collided together. 

Sherlock immediately buried his face in the crook of the boy’s neck, placing both hands at either side of John’s head as he began to move. The boy gasped at the electrifying sensation running through his body as Sherlock began to slide his girth up and down, spreading pre-cum all over the boy’s cock. John’s hands quickly flew to Sherlock’s bum, squeezing the full meaty flesh as Sherlock continued thrusting up and down, prompting the man to never stop as the boy gripped onto Sherlock’s bum like his life depended on it. 

John felt his navel becoming dampened with pre-cum as he felt Sherlock spilling all over him along with the extra liquid escaping the slit of his own cock. Sherlock clasped his lips around the tender flesh that belonged to the boy’s neck and began to suck the skin, creating a tight suction with his mouth. John opened his mouth as he silently moaned at the delicious feeling of having Sherlock’s mouth on his skin, the lush salvia from the man’s mouth seeping into his flesh. 

The boy dug his fingers into Sherlock’s ass cheeks, leaving red marks all over the pale buttocks that were driving John crazy. Then Sherlock released the skin in between his teeth and came up to stare into the boy’s eyes, resting his palm against John’s cheek as he dove down to capture the boy’s lips. John kissed back eagerly, moving his hips as he met Sherlock’s pace, matching the man’s thrusts. 

Sherlock pulled back from the kiss. “Stroke yourself.” 

The man pulled his cock off the boy’s throbbing one and coated his fingers in salvia. Sherlock placed a hand next to the boy’s head as he hovered over John, his lagoon eyes melting at the boy’s gorgeous state. John did as he was told, reaching down to grab his aching cock and stroking himself. The boy purposefully hindered his pace for he didn’t want to come instantly. The boy fisted his cock as he watched Sherlock’s movements, his body dissolving into liquid as he viewed Sherlock sucking those slender digits of his. 

Once Sherlock soaked his fingers with salvia, he faced John. “I won’t hurt you.” 

Sherlock lowered his fingers to the boy’s untouched hole, his fingertips circling the entrance, massaging the pink skin as John gasped. Sherlock continued to circle the unblemished hole when he entered one finger, gently penetrating the boy with a single digit. John threw his head back and closed his eyes as he felt the sweet intrusion inside him. 

Sherlock watched closely at the boy’s reactions, constantly checking if he was hurting John. So far, the boy was enjoying himself, John kept pressing himself against Sherlock’s finger as he continued to glide his hand up and down his cock. Bit by bit, Sherlock could feel the boy loosening up, so he entered a second finger. 

John opened his eyes as he felt another finger breaching the rim of his ass. His free hand flew to the crook of Sherlock’s neck, bringing the man down to his lips. Their lips danced against one another as their wet tongues swirled together in a circular motion. The boy could feel the burning thrill boiling deep below his belly, a few more strokes and he would be releasing his semen onto his hand. 

John didn’t want to come, not yet. So, the boy released his cock and placed his hand on the nape of Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock didn’t stop pumping his fingers inside John, the man maintained the mild pace, he didn’t go too fast or too slow. He went at the perfect speed and Sherlock could feel his shaft pulsing with lust as he desired the urge to impale himself into the boy. 

Sherlock entered a third finger and to his relief, John was ready to be filled with his cock. The boy detached himself from the man’s lips and rested his head against the pillow. Sherlock locked his gaze with John, his chest heaving up and down as warm exhales were escaping his mouth. After a few minutes of having Sherlock’s fingers inside the boy’s hole, the man extracted his soaked digits and reached for his cock. 

John became scared again, he’s never slept with a man before and the notion of having a penis —one that was bigger than his by many inches— disappearing inside of him was a bit terrifying. 

Sherlock could sense that the boy was tensing up, his eyes read every alarm bell ringing off on John’s features. 

The man released his cock and placed both palms on the boy’s cheeks. “I’m scared too.” Sherlock ponderously leaned down and sweetly kissed John. “Do you trust me?” 

The boy nodded. “I trust you.” 

Sherlock lowered his hand and grabbed his cock, circling John’s entrance with the head. The boy had his eyes focused on the organ kissing the virgin skin, his hole kept blinking against the tip of Sherlock’s girth. 

The man looked up to see John’s attention elsewhere, so he lifted the boy’s view with his free hand and made John look into his eyes. “Keep your eyes fixed on me.” 

They stared into their blue eyes as Sherlock cautiously entered himself inside the boy’s tight heat. John squirmed a bit at the uncomfortable intrusion and pressed his lips against Sherlock’s. The boy wasn’t kissing the man but he needed the close contact to feel secure. Sherlock kept pushing himself in, he was halfway through when John opened his mouth against Sherlock’s lips, not daring to close his eyes. 

Sherlock took the invitation of the boy’s open mouth and entered his tongue inside, giving John an ardent kiss as the man finally buried his entire length inside the boy. John returned the kiss with fervent passion as he tried to adjust to the size of the man’s cock inside him. 

Sherlock broke away from the kiss. “Are you alright?” He asked as he caressed the boy’s cheek. 

John nodded. “I’m okay.” 

Sherlock didn’t move, he stayed in place until he felt that the boy was ready for him to slide out and then in again. The man felt his world spinning uncontrollably, the tight walls enclosing around his shaft was unbelievable. It was a sensation that had no words, Sherlock wanted to remain this way forever, immersed inside of John. 

The boy felt his body adapting to Sherlock’s girth inside him, the awful burn he experienced when the man entered inside him was dissipating. 

John pecked Sherlock’s lips, one hand was against the man’s pallid cheek while the other hand reached down to firmly grip Sherlock’s buttock. “Move.” He whispered into Sherlock’s ear. 

Sherlock hid his face in the crook of the boy’s neck as he pulled his cock out, taking advantage of letting his shaft breathe before it would be plunged inside John’s hole. Once his entire cock was out except for the head, Sherlock thrusted forward, returning into the embrace he abandoned only seconds again. The boy dug his fingers into Sherlock’s ass cheek, securely locking himself onto the man’s body. 

This new pain was setting John’s nerves on fire but after a few gradual thrusts, the unpleasant distress he experienced in the beginning was morphing into pleasure. Sherlock didn’t feel the need to go faster, he didn’t want too. The languid pace that he maintained was perfect to him and he knew that the boy appreciated the indolent pace. 

John felt his skin perspiring as the heated breaths escaping Sherlock’s mouth were landing on his tanned skin. The boy wrapped his legs around the man’s waist as he placed loving kisses against Sherlock’s damp curls. Sherlock abandoned John’s neck and pressed his forehead against the boy’s as he rolled his hips, luckily hitting John’s prostate. 

The boy released the man’s ass cheek, leaving it red with his handprint as he placed both hands at either side of Sherlock’s long neck. When Sherlock hit his prostate, John felt a mind-blowing thrill running through his veins. The boy wished for Sherlock to hit that spot again and again and again. Sherlock reached down to grab John’s leg and placed it over his shoulder, making it easier for him to repeatedly hit the boy’s prostate. 

John gasped against Sherlock’s lips as he felt his prostate vibrating with excitement as Sherlock’s cock never failed to hit it. Sherlock reached down to capture the boy’s lips in a bruising kiss as his balls kept slapping the cleft in between John’s ass. The boy feverishly returned the deep kisses, sucking onto the man’s lower lip as he rubbed his shaft against Sherlock’s abdomens. 

Sherlock felt himself dissembling into pieces as he felt the tip of John’s cock smearing pre-cum all over his abdomen. As the man kept thrusting, he felt a torrid sensation building deep below his belly, in a few minutes he’ll come. The boy felt himself coming as he continued to rub his shaft against Sherlock. 

“Don’t stop.” John begged. 

Sherlock picked up his pace a bit, chasing after the orgasm that has been waiting to escape the slit of his girth. “I’m going to come soon.” The man murmured against the boy’s lips. 

“Come inside me. Please.” 

The man’s eyes were half lidded as he devoured John’s lips. Hungrily tasting the boy as he felt his body shuddering at the unfamiliar feeling of experiencing an orgasm. Seconds later, Sherlock caught John’s lower lip with his teeth as he felt semen barreling through his cock, spilling the white substance inside the boy’s hot crevice. 

John felt the man depositing his semen inside him and thrusted upwards, rubbing his shaft a couple of times against Sherlock’s abdomens when stripes of semen stained his and Sherlock’s chest. The boy clenched around the man’s pulsating cock and closed his eyes as he threw his head back. Sherlock felt the tight squeeze being delivered to his shaft and it drove him over the cliff as it amplified the aftershocks of his orgasm by ten times. 

Then their euphoric state disappeared, leaving the two breathless and panting. Sherlock booped John’s nose before he extracted his cock from the boy’s hole and flipped onto his back. They both laid on their backs as they panted loudly while facing the ceiling above them. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John laid on his back as Sherlock curled on top of him, one of Sherlock’s pale legs was snuggly thrown over the boy’s hip, their cocks resting against one another. Sherlock placed his arm around John’s torso, tightly holding onto the boy as he buried his face in the crook of John’s neck. The boy managed to wrap his arm around Sherlock and his hand rested over the man’s full bum. 

Sherlock had his eyes closed, his breaths were even as he managed to sleep for a bit. The boy was still awake, even after their recent activities. John caressed the man’s arm, his fingertips gliding over the pallid skin. Then Sherlock stirred at the light touches laid upon his skin, the boy faced Sherlock and planted docile kisses on the man’s cheekbones. 

Sherlock warmly brought his hand towards John’s blond hair, combing his long fingers through the golden colored strands, memorizing the texture of the boy’s hair and safely stowing it away in his mind palace. John leaned closer to the touch as he continued kissing the man. 

Then Sherlock pulled away from the boy’s neck and faced John, running his thumb across the boy’s cheek. “Call me by your name, and I’ll call you by mine.” He whispered softly. 

John stared at the man, wondering what Sherlock meant by those words when it clicked in his mind. “John.” 

Sherlock inhaled deeply and spread his lips into a sleepy smile. “Sherlock.” 

The boy smiled as he poked Sherlock’s chest. “John.” 

Sherlock caressed John’s lower lip with his thumb. “Sherlock.” 

Then the boy kissed Sherlock, the man rolled onto his back as John placed himself on top of Sherlock. They kissed each other intensely as the boy rubbed his hole against the tip of Sherlock’s cock. The man placed his large hands on John’s back and bucked his hips. The boy’s hands roamed over Sherlock’s wide chest, his hands squeezing the man’s full pecs as he never stopped rubbing himself against Sherlock. 

Pre-cum was already leaking from Sherlock’s shaft and the clear substance was smearing all over John’s opening, softening the skin for another round. The boy took a break from consuming the man’s lips and traced his lips over Sherlock’s jawline and settled to sucking on the man’s earlobe. Sherlock groaned at the attention he was receiving when his hand crawled down to John’s ass, his middle finger slipping in between the cleft of the boy’s ass and feeling the opening that would be full to the brim with his cock. 

Sherlock circled the moistened skin before slipping his finger inside and fingering John’s ass. The boy released the tender flesh in between his teeth and pressed his mouth against Sherlock’s, not kissing the man but relishing the feeling of having Sherlock’s lips on his. John’s mouth was open as Sherlock crooked his finger, making sure that the boy was prepped. 

John kissed Sherlock as he gently removed the man’s finger from his hole. The boy reached down to grab Sherlock’s erect cock, holding onto the base as he lifted himself up. Languidly, John slipped the organ inside him, the boy closed his eyes as he settled the entire shaft deep inside him. Sherlock watched with fascination as he witnessed his cock disappearing inside of John. 

Once Sherlock’s cock was consumed by the boy, John sat up straight, his hands resting on the man’s chest as he rolled his hips. Sherlock threw his head back as he felt the boy rolling his hips, driving his cock mad. The man threw his hands-on John’s hips, keeping the boy steady as his fingers pressed into the boy’s golden skin. 

John filled his hands with Sherlock’s full pecs, squeezing the flesh harshly as he lifted himself. The boy groaned as he felt the man’s cock sliding out of him, then when the entire length was exposed, John slid back down. The grip around the boy’s hips became tighter as John began to bounce on the man’s girth. John’s cock kept bobbing up and down, a view that was considered heavenly to Sherlock’s eyes. 

Sherlock slipped one hand from the boy’s hip and engulfed John’s shaft with his hand, tugging at the boy’s erection as John rode Sherlock’s cock. The boy opened his mouth, letting out a lustful moan as he felt Sherlock’s warm hand stroking him off. John thrusted into the man’s touch, desperately seeking his orgasm. 

Sherlock hungrily savored the boy, keeping his eyes fixed on John as he felt his cock acquiring more semen to deposit inside the boy. Sherlock planted his feet firmly on the mattress and lifted his knees. John took the opportunity to release the man’s pecs and reach back to place his hands-on Sherlock’s knees. Giving the boy an extra boost to continue bouncing his hips on the man’s delicious cock. 

Sherlock sat up, not stopping his hand movement on John’s cock as he latched onto the boy’s pink nipple. John threw his head back as he felt Sherlock suckling on the small bud, casually rolling it between his teeth. The boy leaned into the man’s mouth, wanting to feel more of Sherlock’s heated tongue laving over the erect nipple. 

Then Sherlock gave the same treatment to the other nipple, causing the small pink bud to become puffy by the ministrations it was receiving. Sherlock quickened his pace, gliding his hand up and down John’s leaking cock, not releasing the nipple in between his lips. The boy carded his fingers through the man’s curls as he lifted his hips, enjoying the cock penetrating him as the erect shaft filled him completely. 

John never realized how empty his body was until Sherlock insinuated his cock inside the walls that were currently clenching around the shaft that was sliding in and out of him, stretching him open by the second. The boy lifted Sherlock’s chin, forcing the man to abandon the lovely suction that was given to his nipple and stared into Sherlock’s eyes, smiling as the boy decreased his pace. 

The hand around John’s cock was hindering to a sluggish pace, Sherlock placed his free hand on the boy’s lower back and pressed John against his chest, while lightly stroking the boy. 

John sensually rolled his hips as he felt his orgasm bursting through his cock. “John.” 

The boy came on Sherlock’s chest, his lips were lingering on the man’s cheek as he felt the last ropes of come spurting across Sherlock’s chest, painting the man’s skin. The tight squeeze that John delivered to Sherlock’s cock was enough to send the man in a state of euphoria. 

The man panted against the boy’s ear as hot pools of semen escaped the tip of his cock, coloring the inside of John’s walls and permanently storing Sherlock’s seed inside the boy’s interior. “Sherlock.” He murmured into John’s ear. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John laid on his back, his head was hanging off the side of the bed as he gazed at Sherlock’s naked form, adoring the exposed skin which only seconds ago, that same creamy skin was caressing his tanned flesh. Sherlock was laying on his back as well, except his head was hanging on the other side of the bed as he held onto the bed frame and pushed himself up. 

Sherlock noticed that the splatters of come were stuck onto his chest, he grabbed the dress shirt that was discarded before the activities with the boy took place. He pressed the fabric against his chest, cleaning the damp droplets of semen off his skin. 

“Did we make noise?” John questioned. 

Sherlock snorted. “Of course not.” 

Sherlock cleaned himself throughly and threw the shirt onto the floor as he threw himself back, admiring the view outside the window. 

The boy looked at the discarded shirt and remembered that Sherlock wore that shirt the first day he came here, the billowy blue shirt that hid beneath his suit jacket. 

John looked at the man. “You wore that shirt the first day you came here. Will you give it to me when you go?”


	9. When You Have Eliminated The Impossible, Whatever Remains, However Probable, Must Be The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers!
> 
> I’m so sorry for the delay but recently I went through a tiny episode of depression, which caused me to stop writing. But slowly, I’ve been updating my other fics and my inspiration to continue this fic has finally returned to me. 
> 
> So, enjoy!

The next morning everything was silent. The four walls enclosing Sherlock and John were once screaming with desire, begging for the two to finally come together and be happy. Now that Sherlock and the boy have slept together, the walls deemed themselves to become unvoiced. The light chirps of the birds were blowing across the wind and slipping inside their window. 

Sherlock and John were calmly lying on their backs, the man was fully awake. The crook of his elbow was resting behind the boy’s neck as his forearm was splayed across John’s chest. Sherlock’s slender fingers were dancing over the boy’s sun kissed skin, his fingertips were tracing small circles over the skin that he memorized by heart during the past few weeks. 

The man was deep in thought, although he was completely vigilant to his surroundings, he couldn’t help but escape to his mind palace and blur out the environment he was in. Sherlock kept running over the events that happened here in Italy and the man knew that he was deeply involved now. He was so involved that the exposure of recognizing his feelings for John… were unconditional… and that was terrifying. 

Sherlock wondered if things between him and the boy would work out somehow or perhaps his thoughts were completely ahead of him. Maybe the inquisitive state he was experiencing was completely unnecessary, for why should Sherlock worry if the time to depart from Italy was not close. But John was the only person that dared to enter his universe, the only person who was willing to take a chance with Sherlock and the man found the boy’s bravery endearing. 

Then Sherlock realized that for the first time, in the twenty fours years that he’s existed in this small world… he’s happy. Happiness was an emotion that rarely dominated the man’s life but with John, he learned that happiness could be experienced even by him. 

But could the birth of happiness easily die? Was it possible for Sherlock to lose happiness as quickly as he captured it? 

The man was not sure. 

The boy began to stir softly in Sherlock’s arm, John leaned his head to the side, facing the window and rubbing his closed eyes. 

The movement caused Sherlock to exit his mind palace. The man looked down at the boy and watched as John began to descend from his deep sleep. Sherlock adored the image next to him, it seemed possible that a future consisting of the boy waking up next to Sherlock would be enough for the man to be blissful throughout the following years that awaited him. 

John temporarily forgot that Sherlock was holding onto him, the boy made a confused expression as he eyed the pale arm across his chest. He looked to his right and saw Sherlock, the man’s curls were a mess but his eyes were warm as he offered a loving smile to John. The boy returned a small smile to the man and looked away, staring out towards the window, watching as the sun barely peeked over the horizon. 

John was feeling lost, unhappy, confused, and most importantly, he felt a hatred towards himself. 

The boy felt the waves of animosity crawling over his skin, penetrating his pores and sinking into his muscles. He removed himself from Sherlock’s embrace and rested himself on his elbows, an unknown vitality burning though his chest. 

Sherlock noticed the distant posture that John presented and immediately wondered why the boy was angry. 

In an attempt to bring John back into his arms, he traced his fingers over the boy’s back but John pulled away, not wanting Sherlock to touch him. The man rested himself on his elbows as he observed the boy sitting at the end of the bed. John reached down and retrieved Sherlock’s discarded shirt, looking back at the naked man. 

The boy gave a forced smile but his features changed into sadness, it was easily missed by Sherlock, since John turned away before his true feelings would be exposed. Once the boy masked the vulnerability seeping through his body, he faced Sherlock again. The man returned a sweet smile to the boy, wondering what on earth he did wrong this time. 

“Let’s go swimming.” John said as he tossed the shirt to Sherlock, quickly leaving the bed and getting dressed. 

Once they were dressed, they headed downstairs and grabbed their bikes. It was still early in the morning for anyone to be up, which counted towards their favor. 

The boy opened the back door to B., biting his lip as he mounted his bike. He took the lead, staying in front of Sherlock, not wanting the requirement of facing the man. Sherlock stayed behind, remaining voiceless as he deduced John, trying to find a solution that could fix the problem between them. They reached the lake in a few minutes; the boy abandoned his bike and threw himself in the water. 

Sherlock followed John but kept his distance, he noticed how the boy swam to the right, keeping his back towards the man. Sherlock stayed to the left, giving John enough space as he continued to rule out the possibilities as to why the boy was angry with him. Once their swim was concluded, John slipped on his jumper and shorts, walking towards his bike. 

Sherlock was waiting for the boy, fidgeting with his purple dress shirt, hating how he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He despised how John hadn’t said a word to him this whole time, the stillness between them was consuming him alive. 

The man approached the boy, his swimming trunks soaked in water as his pale chest was uncovered. “Are you going to hold what happened last night against me?” 

John smiled sadly. “No.” 

The boy left Sherlock, grabbing his bike and making his way back to B. The man was left without an explanation as to why John was acting this way and of course, he felt helpless. He watched the boy riding his bike away, feeling every ounce of sadness poisoning his body. 

In a short time, they arrived at B. again, successfully not capturing anyone’s attention and brilliantly making zero noises up the stairs. They reached the hallway that led into their rooms, John rubbed the back of his neck, not saying anything as he looked up at Sherlock. The man wanted to offer the boy the chance to return into their bed but he remained mute, waiting for John to make a decision. 

The boy continued rubbing the back of his neck as he walked away, leaving Sherlock behind. The man dropped his shoulders as he approached his door, giving one last glance to John before entering his room. The boy did the same before he disappeared inside his room. As Sherlock closed the door behind him, he waited as he looked at the bathroom door. 

John walked past the open door that connected to the bathroom and looked at Sherlock before he entered his room, slamming the door shut. Sherlock ran everything through his head, hating how he couldn’t figure out what happened. He looked back at the empty beds pushed together, deciding that the sight of his mattress being empty and lonely without the boy, was a picture that he wished to never own. 

Then Sherlock’s eyes sparkled in mischief, an idea crossed his brilliant mind, an experiment if you will, to confirm whether John wanted the man or not. Sherlock walked towards the door that connected his room with the boy’s and opened it. 

Once John entered his room, he removed the jumper from his torso and went to stand by the window. The boy hated himself at the moment, this had nothing to do with Sherlock. For all he knew, Sherlock was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to him. The problem was, he hated himself because he allowed himself to live through the inevitable. 

A realization dawned on John when he woke up this morning and faced the man next to him, the bleeding awareness that Sherlock would eventually… slip from his grasp. A future that the boy couldn’t alter. The loathing venom that he forced himself to feel was a truth that he needed to accept. Sherlock would leave soon, the ecstasy that he experienced with Sherlock would eventually fade. 

Its funny, how in the beginning, John would have given anything to make the weeks fly in an instant so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the annoying existence of Sherlock Holmes. But now, he would give anything to extend the weeks into years, he would give anything to change the clocks and grant them more time. 

He didn’t want Sherlock to leave, how could he? 

After all they’ve gone through, how could the boy let go of someone who changed his universe? 

This is why John hated himself, because he knew that when the day came, he would not be strong enough to let Sherlock go. His heart would have no barriers to protect itself from crumbling into pieces of glass. And the boy hated himself even more because he was foolish enough to give away his heart, his heart belonged to Sherlock and once the man left, he would take away John’s heart. 

How could the boy ever trick himself to giving away his heart so easily when he knew that the bleeding muscle would never return to him? 

In a way, John hated Sherlock as well. Why didn’t the man spare him from the heartbreak that would appear soon? 

The boy’s thoughts were interrupted when the door to his room was flung open. John turned around and faced Sherlock. 

“John. Come here.” 

The boy walked towards the man, stopping before Sherlock as he stared up at the man. 

“Take your trunks off.” Sherlock said. 

John eyed the man before he slipped off his trunks, his cock springing free from its confines. Sherlock kneeled before the boy, taking John’s shaft in his mouth. The man swallowed down the entire organ, hollowing his cheeks as slick wet noises escaped his mouth. John closed his eyes as his fingers combed through Sherlock’s damp curls. 

Sherlock held onto the boy’s hips as he bobbed his head up and down, grazing his nose against the blond hairs that burrowed around John’s cock. The man was fascinated at how the limp cock was now becoming erect, he could feel John’s shaft throbbing with need against his mouth. 

The man moaned at the taste of the boy in his mouth, he felt the slightest trickle of pre-cum landing on his tongue as he licked the slit. He mouthed at the head, taking into account that this was the most sensitive part of a man’s penis and he used that advantage to drive John wild with sex hormones. The boy released Sherlock’s curls and placed his forearms against the doorway, keeping his eyes closed as he felt the warm suction being delivered to his cock. 

Sherlock released John’s girth with a wet pop as he stood up, wiping away the pre-cum on his lips. “Well, that’s promising. You’re hard again. Good.” 

The man stepped back and slammed the door in the boy’s face. 

John was confused as he looked down at his achingly hard cock and groaned. “You git!” 

Sherlock chuckled as he went back to bed, jumping on the mattress and he smugly smiled to himself. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock was sitting at the breakfast table, hardly eating the food that was served to him. Instead, he seemed to drift off, remembering the events of last night and this morning. Then his eyes perked up when he saw John joining the breakfast table. John kissed his mother and father good morning as he eyed Sherlock before him. The boy sat down as he stole hidden glances at Sherlock. 

Sherlock began to get up. “Professor, I got your note. Thank you for reminding me. I’m going into town and pick up those typed pages today. So maybe this afternoon would be a good time to…” 

Evan nodded. “Later.” 

Sherlock chuckled as he pushed in his chair. 

“We’ll look them over later, before you leave.” Professor Watson calmly said. 

“Brilliant.” Sherlock walked away. “Later.” 

The man smiled at John before he disappeared from B. The boy looked at the empty seat adjacent to him and realized that the hate he experienced this morning was dissipating. John knew in that moment, that he didn’t regret giving himself to Sherlock, he didn’t regret trusting over his heart to Sherlock because if he had to live every morning seeing an empty seat that didn’t have Sherlock in it, then he’d rather wallow away in sorrow. 

But for now, since Sherlock was here and at the palm of his hand, he would enjoy every second of it until it was time to say goodbye. For now, he wanted to be next to Sherlock and for now, the hate against the man was buried below the dirt and forgotten. 

For now, he’d go after the man and be his. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
It wasn’t long before John grabbed his bike and headed into town, determined to find Sherlock and luckily the boy didn’t have to look far to find the tall man. He spotted Sherlock inside a book shop, purchasing a book and paying the man before him. 

“Sherlock.” John said as he hopped off his bike, holding both handles as he approached the man. 

Sherlock stepped out of the shop, his face brightening up by the second as the tiniest smile spread across his lips. A smile that would go unnoticed by many but not for the boy, he noticed everything about Sherlock. John parked his bike and nervously slipped off his shades as he looked up at the man. 

“Are you not sick of me yet?” Sherlock questioned. 

The boy chuckled. “No, I just… I just wanted to be with you.” 

The man observed how vulnerable John looked, the emotions reeking off the boy were raw and unhidden. A similar trait that they both shared at this precise moment. 

John looked down at his hands as he realized that this was a mistake. “I’ll… I’m gonna… I’ll go.” 

“Do you realize how happy I am that we slept together?” The man said, unafraid to express his true feelings to the boy. 

Now it was John’s turn to see how vulnerable Sherlock looked. “I don’t know. How can we both know that for sure?” 

The man smiled. “Well, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however probable, must be the truth.” 

“Well, then I guess whatever you’re saying must be true.” 

Sherlock shuffled the book he purchased between his hands, unaccustomed to being so open with someone. “John. I don’t want you to regret anything. And I hate the thought that maybe I damaged you or… I don’t want either of us to pay for this, one way or another.” 

The boy came forward, shaking his head. “No, I… its not like I’m gonna tell anyone. You’re not gonna be like, getting into trouble.” 

Sherlock laughed, obviously the message he was sending to the boy was lost. “That’s not what I was referring too.” 

They both began to walk along the sidewalk, side by side. Their hands were lightly brushing against each other, their fingers ghosting over one another as they both craved to feel their palms touching. A tingly sensation that roamed over their bodies at being so close to each other yet so far away. They turned the corner, an area where zero people existed, save for a few passengers that passed by them every ten minutes or so. 

They stopped in front of a wooden door, John leaned against the door as he traced the hand that Sherlock lightly touched, onto his lips. He could almost smell the man’s skin on his mouth and oh, how the boy wanted the man right here and now. 

“Are you happy that I came here?” John asked. 

Sherlock crowded the boy towards the corner, his hand resting against the wooden door as his forearm came closer to the side of John’s head. Their faces were inches away, a cruel distance that prohibited the sweet pleasures of enjoying a kiss. 

“I would kiss you if I could.” Sherlock purred. 

The boy parted his lips open, his mouth chasing after the man’s lips but Sherlock pulled away, teasing John as he smiled. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
After their small adventure to town, they returned to B. John decided to take a swim in the pool, his mother and father were busy inside the house. The boy lazily floated on his back, his eyes closed as he felt the sun kissing his skin. A bright smile danced along his lips as the happiness he was experiencing was filling him to the brim. 

The water gently lapped around him, soaking into his blond strands and consuming his swimming trunks. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

John opened his eyes, temporarily being blinded by the sun above him but in a matter of seconds, his vision became clear and he saw Sherlock standing in front of him, wearing only his violet swimming trunks. 

“Not at all.” The boy smiled. 

Sherlock entered the pool and swam around John, diving below and circling the boy, his fingers would caress John’s skin. The boy felt his skin breaking into goosebumps as he took the man’s hint and joined Sherlock underneath the water. Sherlock held onto John’s thighs, pressing the boy closer to his skin as he captured John’s lips. 

The boy wrapped his legs around the man’s hips, rubbing himself along Sherlock’s abdomens as his hands held onto the man’s neck. Sherlock’s hands slipped towards John’s back, squeezing the firm flesh as he pressed his tongue inside the boy’s mouth. John smiled as his tongue met with the man’s, twirling in circles and tasting each other. 

The boy’s hand traveled towards Sherlock’s buoyant curls, the mass of dark hair was swaying against the small waves that John and him were creating. The boy gripped the hair and pulled back, climbing onto Sherlock as the kiss became passionate and sensual. The man could detect that in a few seconds, they would need to return to the surface to breathe air. 

Sherlock held onto John as he pushed them upwards, breaking the surface of the water. The kiss was not broken, the man slipped his wet hand beneath the waistband of the boy’s shorts and grabbed John’s ass cheek. Sherlock squeezed the flesh firmly as his other hand squeezed the back of the boy’s neck. John cupped the man’s face as he sucked on Sherlock’s bottom lip. 

They pulled away from the kiss, both breathless as the boy exhaled heavily against Sherlock’s cheek. The man released puffs of air against John’s ear, reaching for the boy’s earlobe and nipping at the tender flesh. 

“Sherlock.” The man whispered inside John’s ear. 

The boy faced Sherlock, pressing his lips against the man’s. “John.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Moments after their shared kiss, Sherlock had to depart from John’s company, explaining that Professor Watson was waiting for him to continue the evaluation of Evan’s manuscript. The boy remained in the pool for a bit, missing the presence of Sherlock to the point where he couldn’t stand being inside the pool alone. 

John came out of the swimming pool and went towards a tree, standing on his tippy toes as he reached for the ripest peaches blossoming on a branch. He took two peaches and went towards B., heading into a secret room that was used only by him. The boy would go to this room whenever he felt the urge to enjoy his solidarity. 

The room was spacious except for the dictum to withhold a clean environment was not necessary. The walls were covered with old mattresses that have seen better days and other objects were gaining dust. John threw one of the mattresses on the floor and grabbed a book that was resting on a cabinet next to him. 

Once he securely had the book in his hands, he layed down on the mattress and began to read as he ate one of the peaches, he brought with him. He ate the entire fruit, the only part of the peach that remained was the pit. It still had pieces of succulent flesh attached to it, so the boy sucked on the pit, trying to eat as much of the peach as possible. 

Once John left the pit bare, he tossed the pit across the room, successfully throwing it inside a trash can. The boy returned his attention to the book and turned the page, finishing the words that filled the two pages before closing the book. He placed the book on the cabinet and laid on his back, staring out into the window before him as he reached for the second peach. 

John studied the peach in his hands, feeling the smooth skin that housed the delicious meat of a peach beneath. He brought the peach closer to his lips when he pulled the peach away, the boy eyed the round shape of the fruit. 

John was at the cusp of manhood, an entry to a new world that the boy was enjoying. Had it not been for his sexual awakening with Sherlock, John would have never understood how much he ached to explore his body. Curiosity was at its finest, so he did not find it strange when he viewed the simple peach perched in his hands as a sexual object that could be used for his own pleasure. 

As the boy studied the peach, he hovered his index finger over the top of the peach, fingering the dip of the peach, where the branch would have been if the peach was still attached to the tree. John noticed that the round curvature of the peach had the same resemblance to Sherlock’s ass. The boy already had the image of the man’s bum inside his head, the soft curves belonging to the peach were the same as Sherlock’s plump mounds. 

John caressed the fruit as if it was Sherlock’s ass, squeezing the peach the way he would to the man’s buttocks. He fingered the top of the fruit again, wondering if this is what Sherlock experienced when the man touched the boy’s hole, penetrating John’s ass. The boy continued to push his index finger inside the hole of the peach, knowing how he trusted Sherlock enough to let the man enter his fingers inside the most intimate part of John’s body. 

The boy wanted to continue his explorations, he wanted to know what Sherlock felt when the man entered his fingers inside an entrance that was wet and tight. So, John pressed his index finger inside the peach, penetrating the core to reach the juicy liquid that moistened the entire peach. He wanted to cover his fingers with the slick substance, a close resemblance to how wet he must have been when Sherlock entered his fingers inside him. 

John pushed further inside the peach, wet noises were emitting from the penetration of the peach. Trickles of the yellow juice squirted out from the peach, thick drops of juice landed on his bare chest, seeping into his skin. The boy looked down at the mess he had made and rubbed the juice off his skin as he laid to the side, resting on an elbow. 

Then John used his thumb to finish the job, squirting out more juice with every press he delivered. 

As expected, gushes of juice spilled from the peach, staining the mattress below. “Oh, fuck.” 

Squishy slick sounds were audible as the boy watched the never-ending juice spilling onto his skin and the mattress. Then, he managed to open the peach enough to where he could remove the pit inside. He grabbed the pit and tossed it aside, reaching inside and removing the second pit. Once the pits of the peach had been removed, John laid back on the bed, looking at the peach to which he abused in order to see the inside. 

The boy eyed the peach, it was ripped apart but still in tact. He caressed the curves of the peach, mimicking the touches that Sherlock delivered to him before the man stuffed his cock inside John. The boy brought the fruit to his mouth, chewing on the meat of the peach and savoring the sweet taste. John pulled the peach away and wondered how it would feel to have his cock inside the peach. 

He could relive the emotions Sherlock felt when the man entered his shaft inside the boy and fucked him. John looked away from the peach, luscious drops of juice dripped onto his chest and as he realized his insane, he must look. But the boy was curious, there no harm in fucking a peach, right? 

John closed his eyes, remembering the night where Sherlock thrusted inside him, spreading his walls apart and making the boy come undone. Slowly, he lifted the waistband of his swimming trunks and dragged the peach down his chest, through his navel, and resting it at the tip of his cock. The boy imagined the sensation Sherlock felt when he settled inside John, the suffocation the man’s girth lived through as the boy squeezed around him. 

John threw his head back as he stuffed his shaft inside the fruit, he could feel the lightest trickles of juice running down the underside of his cock. The boy took deep breaths as he lifted the peach and brought it back down, fucking the fruit. The moist wetness that the peach offered was driving John crazy, this is what it felt like, this is why Sherlock loved thrusting inside the boy. 

The wild sensations running though his body must have been lived through Sherlock’s body as well and John loved it. The boy’s limp cock was fully revived, the erect organ was thickening in interest and the urge to come was growing stronger. John commenced with slow thrusts, breathing heavily as he concentrated on the wet entrance surrounding him, then he felt the impulse to move faster. 

He quickened the pace, desperate to reach his climax already and spill inside the peach. The boy chased after his orgasm, bucking his hips in earnest as the beginnings of his orgasm was forming deep below his belly. The burning bubbly feeling was eating him alive, he knew that this is what Sherlock felt when he was about to come inside John. 

The desperation to release a tension that has been building inside one’s body. The security of knowing that someone can spill their most intrinsic substance inside another person that was willing to accept the visceral element that not many would have the pleasure of housing. 

Then after three hard thrusts, the boy was groaning in pleasure as he spilled inside the peach, cursing under his breath as ropes of semen colored the walls of the peach. John looked down at himself, rolling his eyes as he smacked his head against the mattress. 

What the fuck was he doing? 

The boy removed the used fruit from his cock and set the peach on the cabinet. The fruit remained still as John’s semen slowly oozed out from the tear that the peach experienced during its session with the boy. The white substance slipped past the broken skin and touched the wooden cabinet, staining the furniture with John’s seed. 

The boy cleaned himself as best as he could before he rested himself on his side and went to sleep. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The sunny day grew dark, the last rays of the sun were fading away. John was calmly sleeping on his back, feeling the weak light of the sun kissing his face. 

Once Sherlock finished his work with Professor Watson, he spent the rest of the evening looking for the boy. It wasn’t overtly hard to locate John, the man walked up the stairs that led into the hidden room that housed the boy. He opened the door and smiled at the soft image before him, John looked serene and peaceful. 

Sherlock removed his shirt as he approached the boy. John heard the lax footsteps becoming louder and the rustle of clothes above him. He opened his eyes and sleepily smiled when he saw Sherlock coming towards him, shirtless. Sherlock sat on the mattress next to the boy, reaching forward and claiming John’s lips. 

Sherlock noticed that the boy’s mouth was sweet, he pried John’s mouth open, snaking his tongue inside to affirm his deductions. Slowly, the man abandoned the boy’s mouth and traced his tongue along John’s neck. The sweetness rolling off of the boy’s neck was addictive, Sherlock mouthed at the skin beneath his lips, tasting the remnants of a specific fruit that soaked through John’s skin. 

Sherlock deduced that the boy must have been eating a peach before he came here. The man continued sucking John’s skin, traveling lower towards the boy’s chest, then his abdomens which resulted in Sherlock removing John’s swimming trunks. Sherlock grasped the base of the boy’s cock and gave a long lick from the base to the tip. 

The man could taste the same sweetness embedded on John’s shaft and Sherlock formed an interesting deduction that was 100% correct. Sherlock eyed the boy in mischief as he swallowed down John’s girth, sucking the organ and relishing in the savory taste that tingled through his tongue. The man pulled away from the boy’s cock with a wet pop, licking his lips. 

Sherlock decided to tease John. “What did you do?” 

The boy looked down at his shaft and shook his head. “Nothing.” 

“You’re lying. Have we been experimenting with fruit? Perhaps a peach?” 

John shook his head again, ashamed that Sherlock deduced him already. Embarrassment was taking over his features and coursing through his veins, the urge to hide away from the man was a tempting option. Then the situation became worse when the boy noticed Sherlock looking past him. Sherlock smiled in triumph, his prior deductions were proven correct as he reached for the peach resting on the wooden cabinet. 

Sherlock took hold of the peach filled with semen inside. John rubbed his eyes, trying to hide the mortification that plagued his body. 

The man studied the fruit. “Obviously, you’ve moved on to the plant kingdom already. What’s next? Minerals? I suppose you’ve already given up on animals. You know that’s me.” 

The boy took deep breaths, trying to prevent the tears of humiliation to escape his eyes. John felt so exposed, a truth that he purposefully hid away was now making its appearance again. Yes, the boy knew that there were alternative methods which would comply to creating pleasure for himself. There were other people who were willing to sleep with him or blow him off. 

Even a peach was sufficient enough to help John cure him of the many random events that involved his cock being erect and desperate to spill out the contents of his semen. 

But none of the substitutions provided to the boy would ever compare to Sherlock. Nothing could ever make John experience the emotions he’s felt with the man. Nobody could replace Sherlock. And that was a painful reality that crawled along the boy’s spine, the anguish of knowing that Sherlock would leave soon was unbearable to face. 

And what was worse, was that John saw himself as the peach settled in Sherlock’s hand. 

What was more vulnerable than a peach? 

It hurt the boy to see how easily Sherlock could hold him, how simple it was for Sherlock to notice him but at the same time, John knew that fruits such as peaches were susceptible to being disposed and forgotten. The boy comprehended that like a peach, he was prone to being discarded like an old cloth that has expired its resourcefulness to nothing. 

John knew that was he inclined to being unremembered like the distant memories of our childhood being lost to a hazy setting that prevents us from remembering our past clearly. A fear that the boy had no control over, a future that spilled with heartache. John didn’t want Sherlock to forget him or worse, leave him. 

“I’m sick, aren’t I?” The boy asked brokenly. 

Sherlock eyed the peach. “I wish everybody was as sick as you.” 

The man raised his finger and pressed it inside the core of the peach, desiring the sensation of feeling John’s semen on his finger. 

“Please don’t do that.” The boy begged. 

“You want to see something sick?” 

“Please don’t do that.” 

“Do you not want to see something sick?” Sherlock smirked. 

“Please don’t do this.” 

Sherlock dipped his finger in the semen and tasted the substance. John felt his heart being torn in two, seeing the man being amused while the boy was hurting. The aura of Sherlock Holmes was a treasure that John couldn’t keep, not even inside a chest. A possession that was weak, the existence belonging to Sherlock would inevitably disappear and the boy could not stand it. 

John reached forward, removing Sherlock’s finger from the man’s mouth. “Please don’t do it.” 

Sherlock quickly grabbed the boy’s wrist and pinned it against the mattress, keeping John still. The boy couldn’t look at the man before him, he wanted Sherlock to stop. Sherlock eyed the peach and brought it towards his mouth, keen on taking a bite. 

John immediately reached for Sherlock’s hand, stopping the man. “Why are you doing this to me?” 

Sherlock pulled the peach away while the boy struggled to snatch the fruit away from the man. He placed his large pale hand against John’s chest, forcing the boy to stay still on the bed and preventing John from getting up. 

“What are you doing?” The boy asked angrily. 

“Stop.” 

“You’re fucking hurting me.” 

“Then don’t fight.” 

John pushed Sherlock’s arm away, trying to reach the peach but the man had longer arms, an advantage that was used against the boy. Sherlock kept pushing John away when the boy gave up, he didn’t want to fight with Sherlock, he just wanted to be with the man as much as time allowed him. John surrendered to his tears as he reached for Sherlock’s waist, wrapping his bare arms around the man and hugging him. 

Sherlock looked down at the boy, confused as to why John was crying. The boy was sobbing loudly against the man’s skin, oh how he didn’t want Sherlock to leave. Please don’t leave me. 

Sherlock returned the peach to the wooden cabinet and deduced every information provided to him, yet the reasons for John to act this way was still unclear. The boy was sniffling loudly as he pulled himself up, covering his face as Sherlock held John close to his body, pressing their skin together and providing a warm comfort. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around the boy as he grazed his nose against John’s blond hair. The boy removed his hand from his face, groaning at the display of emotions that sparked through him, hating that Sherlock had to see him like this. Sherlock pulled away, cupping John’s face as he realized how broken the boy looked. 

John pulled himself together, trying to stop the mini breakdown he was going through and erasing his sadness. “Sorry.” 

“Its okay.” 

The boy looked down as he caressed the man’s palm with his cheek, absorbing every part that he loved about Sherlock. The man still didn’t understand why John was being emotional, a department in which Sherlock lacked experience in but he comforted the boy as best as he could. He kissed John’s hair as the smell of the sun flooded through his nostrils. 

The boy looked up, chasing after Sherlock’s lips and pressing sweet kisses that he adored, an action he begged to never end. 

“Its okay.” Sherlock repeated. 

Sherlock reached forward, kissing John as he held onto either side of the boy’s head. John ran his fingers through the man’s curls, wishing that he could have Sherlock this way for the rest of his days. Sherlock kissed the boy’s temple as John rested his palm against Sherlock’s cheek. The boy held the man this way for a bit, never wanting to let Sherlock go… not yet. 

Sherlock pressed docile kisses all over John’s face, knowing that this method calmed people down. The boy pressed his face into Sherlock’s shoulder, grasping onto the man’s bare bicep, squeezing the familiar flesh that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye too. Sherlock tightly held John, rubbing small circles over the boy’s skin. 

“Its okay.” Sherlock whispered. 

John pressed his nose against Sherlock’s bicep, smelling the man’s skin and feeling more tears welling in his eyes as he realized that he wasn’t ready to live without the man’s smell. The boy took a deep breath as he dared to expose his true self to Sherlock, an actuality that clawed him alive. He needed Sherlock to know, he had to tell Sherlock. 

“I don’t want you to go.” 

Sherlock remained frozen as the words being spoken by John, whirled inside his head. Now he finally understood why the boy was acting this way. Sherlock didn’t know what to say in return, instead he rested his chin on top of John’s head. The man couldn’t prevent the unavoidable, his term to leave was approximating. 

Sherlock couldn’t change that but a conflict of emotions was overwhelming his brain, yes, he did care for the boy. But Sherlock wasn’t ready to uncover a phrase that many people used when they’ve been together for some time and their intimacy has grown. He wasn’t ready to experience that. 

Sentiment. 

No, he would not worry about that yet. He had time, well he had a specific amount of time before he left. But truthfully, he didn’t want to leave… at least not yet. 

But what could he do?


	10. Mystery Of Love

The stars were blinking up above, casting twinkling lights all over Italy. Sherlock and John were outside of B., they took over a hidden spot that was covered by thick trees. They were both sitting on a bench, Sherlock was leaning back towards the trunk of tree while the boy sat in front of him. John fiddled with the man’s buttons, slipping his fingers between the holes of Sherlock’s shirt and feeling the creamy skin beneath the fabric. 

Sherlock’s thighs were resting over the boy’s, John occasionally stroked the man’s thighs with his hands as Sherlock gifted the boy with a small smile. 

“God, we wasted so many days.” John said. 

“There were plenty of times where I gave you a sign.” 

The boy lightly shoved Sherlock’s chest. “You didn’t give me a sign.” 

“Of course, I did.” 

“Obviously, you didn’t.” 

Sherlock snorted. “I beg to differ.” 

“Okay.” John stood up straight and folded his arms across his chest. “When?” 

Sherlock reached forward, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Remember the first day when I arrived here, and I walked inside the bathroom and caught you naked.” The man kissed John’s neck. “Then I went to go look for you in the fields, you were laying down on the ground and I blocked the sun from your eyes.” 

Sherlock continued peppering the boy’s throat with lingering kisses. “And the most obvious sign I gave you was when I appeared at your side while you played the piano.” The man pulled back and pushed John. “Need I go on?” 

The boy rolled his eyes. “How was I supposed to pick up on all those not so obvious signs? I hated you at the time, remember?” 

Sherlock made a thinking face. “I suppose I did my best to bring out the ugliness inside you.” 

John chuckled. “Fuck you.” 

Sherlock snorted as he lifted his pallid hands in the air, waiting for the boy to intertwine their fingers together. John gave one last caress to the man’s thighs before he placed his golden palms against Sherlock’s. Their fingers naturally curled together, fitting perfectly as they resembled the union of the moon and the sun. 

The man smiled as he leaned forward, capturing the boy’s lips in a duteous kiss, taking the time to absorb every taste that was embedded in John’s mouth. Meekly exchanging salvia, weaving their lips together to form a picture that merely revolved around taste. 

Sherlock gently caressed the boy’s lips before pulling back. “Its not a pleasant thought, John, but I have this terrible feeling, from time to time, that we might all just be human.” 

John rested his head against Sherlock’s chest. “Even you?” 

“No.” Sherlock lifted the boy’s head, cupping John’s face. “Even you.” 

The boy softly smiled as he captured the man’s lips again, kissing Sherlock over again and again. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The next morning, John woke up to an empty bed, the vacant space next to him was lacking a body that belonged to one Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock and the boy didn’t have sex the night before, rather they stayed in bed and felt one’s warmth against the other. John’s hand reached forward, wanting to touch Sherlock’s body but instead, he felt bedsheets. 

The boy groaned disappointedly as he opened his eyes, the bright view before him was blinding but after a few seconds, John’s cobalt blue eyes adjusted to the sad spectacle next to him. The lack of Sherlock’s body was not a sensation that the boy favored. John was lying on his belly, he pushed himself up and stretched his muscles. 

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling when he noticed Sherlock’s billowy blue shirt at the end of the bed. The boy reached forward, noticing that billowy was clean and pressed. It was snuggly resting on a hanger while a note resided at the top of the hanger. John laid back on the mattress as he read the note. 

“For Sherlock. From John.” The boy chuckled fondly as he read the note again. 

John pressed billowy against his bare chest and immersed himself with the fabric against his skin, relishing in the lingering scent that belonged to Sherlock. The boy got up from the bed and decided to get dressed, then venture downstairs. John slipped on a pair of shorts along with billowy covering his torso, the shirt was loose around his upper body and a tad bit bigger on him but the boy didn’t care, in fact, he looked rather delicious in it. 

The boy came down the stairs when Greg surprised him, hugging John from the side. 

“Hey-oh!” Greg said happily. 

The boy hugged his friend. “Greg! What are you doing here?” 

Greg released John. “What? Can’t I visit my best friend?” 

The boy laughed. “Of course, you can.” 

“Come on, let’s go swimming.” 

John and Greg headed towards the pool, splashing water towards each other and chatting away. 

“So, you and Sherlock are a thing now?” Greg asked. 

The boy ran a hand through his blond wet strands. “Yeah. I mean, we slept together, so that must mean something.” 

Greg smiled as he lowered his voice. “So, how is it? Sleeping with a guy?” 

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” 

Greg rolled his eyes. “Come on; dicks, balls, and ass, tell me something.” 

John splashed water towards Greg’s face. “Shut up.” 

“Alright, alright. Don’t tell me then.” 

The two boys laughed, splashing water towards each other for a bit. They returned to lounging over the water when the boy noticed Sherlock walking out of B. and taking a seat on a lawn chair. Sherlock slipped on his shades as he read the stack of papers in his hands. John lost himself as he stared at the man before him. 

A part of him was happy to know that Sherlock was still within his reach but the grim reminder of the man leaving was a venom that corrupted his happiness. 

Greg noticed the boy’s gaze towards Sherlock, he faced the man then looked back at John, detecting a tinge of sadness dwelling inside the boy’s features. “John. You know, you look sad when you think he can’t see you.” 

The boy faced his best friend, of course, nothing slipped past Greg. 

John forced a smile, doing his best to eliminate the emotions that betrayed his feelings. “Why would I be sad if he can’t see me?” 

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” 

“About what?” 

“Him leaving.” 

The boy looked back at Sherlock, exhaling loudly. “I think were both trying to avoid that.” 

Greg swam towards John’s side, pressing his arm against the boy’s. “Can you hold out till then?” 

“I don’t know. I-I don’t want him to see me. I don’t want him to see right through me. Not yet.” 

Greg hugged his friend “At some point, he’ll need to see right through you, John.” 

John squeezed his friend in return. “I know.” He released a shuddered breath. “I know.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sybil and Evan were on the other side of B., enjoying the sun while they lounged on the lawn chairs, perched onto the grass. Professor Watson was shirtless, the only thing covering his lower body was a pair of beige shorts. Mrs Watson was wearing a two-piece bikini that accentuated her figure quite lovingly. 

“Sherlock has to go to Bergamo for a few days.” Evan calmly said. 

“Oh.” 

“Research at the university. Then he’ll fly home from Linate.” 

Sybil faced her husband. “But what about John? Maybe it could be nice for the two of them to get away for a couple of days, no?” 

Professor Watson placed his hand on Sybil’s thigh, rubbing the smooth skin with his fingers. 

“What do you think?” Sybil asked. 

Evan sat up and placed a delicate kiss on Sybil’s lips. “I think it’s a good idea.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The anticipation or the expectation of Sherlock leaving B. was not really expected, well technically the man wasn’t leaving just yet. His adventure to Bergamo will not be an individual experience instead John would accompany him and that made the upcoming journey even more exciting. 

“You know you’ve been our favorite student? You must come back.” Sybil said as she cupped Sherlock’s face. 

The man chuckled. “Are you certain you’re not just saying that?” 

“Sherlock.” Sybil kissed Sherlock’s cheek. “Can’t you deduce the truth?” 

Sherlock snorted as he noticed Professor Watson loading his and John’s bags onto the bus. 

“Thank you very much, Professor.” Sherlock said. 

John was accompanied by Greg; the boy was bidding farewell to his best friend. 

“Have fun and lots of sex.” Greg lightly punched John’s shoulder. 

The boy returned the punch. “Shut up!” 

Greg snorted as he hugged John. “No really, good luck.” 

“Thanks mate.” 

The boy released Greg when Sherlock, Sybil, and Evan appeared in front of them. 

Greg looked up at Sherlock, while extending his hand. “It was nice knowing you. Good luck traveling back to London.” 

Sherlock shook Greg’s hand. “Thank you. It was nice knowing you as well.” 

John waved Greg goodbye as he entered the bus. 

Sherlock faced Sybil and Evan, in all honesty, he did enjoy the couple’s company and he did very much enjoy his time in Italy. “Well, thank you both so much. For everything.” 

Sybil hugged Sherlock. “Of course.” 

The man faced Evan and hugged him warmly. “Thank you for all the informative advice and beneficial help that you gave me. Its been amazing. Thank you.” 

Sherlock released Professor Watson, stepping back to take a mental photograph of the couple. “Well, later, Watsons.” 

Sybil and Evan chuckled. “Later!” 

Sherlock entered the bus, reaching towards the seat where the boy chose to sit while waving goodbye to Mr and Mrs Watson. John waved goodbye to his parents and Greg, pressing his face against the window while smiling enormously. Sherlock continued walking towards the back of the bus, bidding farewell to Sybil, Evan, and Greg. 

The boy got up from his seat and stood by Sherlock’s side, waving everyone goodbye. They both sent one last wave before the bus began to move. Sherlock and John chuckled as they returned to their seats. The boy sat next to the window while Sherlock took the outside seat. 

John looked up at the man, noticing that Sherlock was displaying a bright smile, so bright that it made the man glow. 

It was probably the happiest, the boy had ever seen Sherlock. “What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“What?” 

Sherlock laughed. “Nothing.” 

The man gently pushed John with his arm as he continued to parade his contagious smile. The bus commenced with its destination, a destination that was waiting for John and Sherlock. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The trail up ahead consisted of one color, green. The callings of nature surrounded the man-made trail like an ocean housing an island. Pebbles were on the tracks, the wheels geared through the dirt on the trail, and the light bouncing experienced by the uneven road was enough to jolt the passengers for a bit. The everlasting continuation of trees was abundant. 

The heavy population of lean green trees were creating a scent that specifically belonged in an environment that only consisted part of the earth that has been spared from the touch of humans. The shrubbery inhabiting every corner kept getting thicker and greener, granting the elimination of civilization and sparking a view that many weren’t used too. 

The wilderness provided a quiet argument, an opinion that reeked of freedom and the choice of basking in a carefree environment. 

The bus made a stop, where travelers such as Sherlock and John could explore the vast landscape before them. Sherlock and the boy grabbed their backpacks and ran towards the green fields that were heavily populated with various species of trees along with forests that vibrated with exemption. And further down the trail, a waterfall was roaring with the constant overflow of water. 

John was ahead, running at full speed while Sherlock jogged behind him. They were both enjoying the liberty of not caring about anything else other than the present moment. 

“Yes!” The boy shouted freely as he howled in happiness. “John!” 

The man stripped himself from his serious demeanor, a façade that he’s worn for so long and decided to become a child again. “Sherlock!” 

They both began to scream in contentment, running up the hill and getting closer to the waterfall. Streams began to appear everywhere, the clear water withheld rocks, providing a harmonious melody that signified peace. Sherlock and John carefully jumped over the rocks, double checking that they didn’t slip and fall. 

Sherlock ran his hand through his curls as he shouted. “Sherlock!” 

“John!” The boy shouted his name in return. 

Their howls and screams echoed off into the distance, bouncing off the mountains and slipping past the trees. After running for so long, they finally reached the bottom of the waterfall. Clouds of misty water rained over the patch of rocks and grass, creating a hazy illusion that captured Sherlock and John’s eye. They shouted in victory as they reached the enormous waterfall, the cascades of water were just a few feet away from them. 

The boy stopped his run and faced Sherlock, coming face to face with the man as he ran his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. He leaned forward and kissed the man fervently, intertwining their lips and pressing their tongues together. John pulled away with a sparkling smile on his face as he continued to run up the hill. 

Sherlock kissed the boy back with the same passion and smiled cheerfully as he watched John take off, running towards the waterfall. The man stood in place as he looked back at the unbelievable scenery that surrounded him. This is what it felt like; to be free, to be alive, to be without any responsibility, to embrace one’s true self in a setting that consisted of zero people and no judgements. 

Sherlock exhaled deeply as he laughed in disbelief, never in his life did he ever think that he’d be here with the someone he truly cared for. The boy that he’s grown very fond of, prompted him to display a child like nature that is experienced when the discovery of new places has exhilarated his heart in excitement. He could run without the heavy weight of knowing that someone — Mycroft — would be watching him. 

Oh, Sherlock loved this, he truly did. The man faced John again and ran up the hill, catching up to the boy and being close to John. 

The deafening roar of the clear water pounding against the rocks below was incredibly loud, a stimulating sound that created a magical sensation that seeped through Sherlock and the boy’s skin. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
After their prior trip to the waterfall, Sherlock and John returned to the bus and enjoyed the twenty-minute ride to their final stop. They exited the bus and grabbed their bags, the day was well spent, the yellow rays of the sun had begun to disappear. The dark shadow of the night began to make its appearance. 

Sherlock and the boy checked themselves into their hotel, both acting like a bunch of dorks as Sherlock pretended to be a French man with a huge ego while John impersonated a German man with a short temper. They both made quite the scandal at the reception desk but eventually they received the key to their room. 

They purposefully had an argument with each other, raising their voices and causing many people to stare at them. Once they reached their room, the boy opened the door and threw his belongings onto the floor, Sherlock did the same. As Sherlock closed the door behind him, they bursted into a fit of giggles. 

John threw himself onto the bed as he laughed loudly, feeling his stomach hurting at the constant laughter escaping his mouth. 

Sherlock rumbled out continuous chuckles as he patted the boy’s back. The man approached the window, opening the two doors that led towards a small balcony. He stepped onto the balcony as John appeared next to him, looking down at the people below on the streets. Sherlock leaned against the open door and threw his head back, hardly containing his laughter. 

The boy couldn’t help the contagious giggles escaping his lips, he grasped at the railing surrounding the balcony and continued laughing. John stood up straight as he leaned on the other door of the window, facing Sherlock. The boy leaned forward, nudging Sherlock’s shoulder when the man began to tickle John. 

The boy snorted loudly as he tried to flee away from Sherlock’s hands, preventing the man from tickling him. John fell towards the ground as he successfully slipped away from the man’s grasp but Sherlock grabbed him and tossed him onto the bed. Sherlock straddled the boy’s hips and tickled John till the boy cried for mercy.


	11. Into Battle

John and Sherlock left their belongings in their hotel room as they proceeded to explore the small town of Bergamo. They couldn’t enjoy the small town when it was bright and sunny but they could relish the excitement awaiting them in Bergamo during the night. As the stars illuminated the dark sky above, the power of the night was responsible for bringing out the beauty in Bergamo. 

One that both Sherlock and the boy wouldn’t miss for the world. Firstly, they visited important sights that were considered famous, of course, Sherlock rambled on about the history of each monument and building they encountered. Leaving John speechless as always and having the boy complimenting the man’s deductions. 

From an educational point of view, it could be inferred and implied that many facts were learned. The amount of information being exposed and consumed was enough to provide a classroom with a lesson filled with wonderful knowledge that described the pulchritude of Italian towns such as Bergamo. Once their academic curiosity faded away, they indulged themselves to act as local residents and enter locations that weren’t necessarily for touristic obligations. 

One of the most common places that regional residents visited were bars, where alcohol was abundantly rich in. John was desperate to see how Sherlock would react if alcohol entered his system and made him drunk. Curiously, the boy wanted to see how he himself would act if he was drunk. Of course, John had consumed alcohol countless times in the past but never did he let himself become drunk. 

So, now it was a chance for the boy and Sherlock to see how their reactions would if their bodies were tampered with alcohol. They entered a small cozy bar and ordered a few drinks, perhaps way too many drinks for the results became evident. John was sneaky enough to pour shots inside the man’s drink, purposely granting Sherlock the chance to become loose and unguarded. 

After the constant consummation of drinks which resembled a conveyor belt that nicely provided one drink after another, the boy was extremely drunk and Sherlock was tipsy. John never did have a strong impulse to contain his liquor, for he was still just a boy. Sherlock on the other hand, could handle his liquor although he sensed that his body retained more alcohol than necessary. 

Never the less, the man was tipsy but the control he had over his mind and body were explicitly in tact. Though at times, his walking pattern was uncoordinated. John became too intoxicated with the alcohol in his system, so he had to sit down for a second and gain control over himself. Not even nine minutes had passed when his ears picked up the familiar baritone voice that was, at the moment, shouting. 

Sherlock had entered a conversation with a man that transformed into an argument. “I know ash! Don’t tell me I don’t!” 

The boy turned around just in time to catch the man throwing a punch towards Sherlock, though Sherlock dodged the incoming punch quite well. John abandoned his seat as he grabbed the man’s waist, pulling Sherlock back and offering apologies to the man who clearly wanted to beat up Sherlock. The boy shook his head as he snorted, how typical of Sherlock entering a public setting and off the bat, insulting others. 

Once they escaped the confines of the bar, Sherlock spun around and cupped John’s face, swaying clumsily on the balls of his feet. “My Jawwwn. My sweet perfect boy. The apple to my pizza.” 

The man kissed the boy as John laughed against the kiss. “Don’t you mean the apple to my eye.” 

“Please John, the accuracy of mentioning metaphors has never been a major concern for me. You clearly understood what message I was trying to send you.” 

Sherlock snorted as he went back a few steps, grabbing the boy’s hand as they began to spin around, effectively moving away from the bar and entering the lowly lit streets that were ringing of solidarity. 

The man closed his eyes as he kept spinning with John, humming loudly before he spoke. “Did you know that many people are unaware of the entire sequence belonging to pi? I could recite all the numbers for you…” 

The boy smiled widely as he heard Sherlock rambling, their constant spin came to a halt as John leaned against a brick wall, taking the opportunity to make his visual stop spinning in circles. 

Sherlock immediately followed the boy and came to stand by John’s side. “There is also another fact you should know.” 

Before the man could say it, Sherlock began to spin his way down the wall, the boy chuckled as he mimicked the man’s movements, spinning against the wall. 

Sherlock stopped as he stepped away from the wall and caught John in his arms. “There are exactly 240 different types of tobacco ash. And I can name them all and specify which ones are better!” 

The man stood in front of the boy as he pressed his body flush against John’s, sliding a knee in between the boy’s legs. 

John groaned as he combed his fingers through Sherlock’s wild curls. “Oh, Sherlock, you’re so smart.” 

The man rumbled in pleasure at the praise given to him. “Of course, I am. And I love it when you compliment me on my knowledge.” 

Sherlock dove in to bury his face in the crook of the boy’s neck, clasping his lips around the succulent flesh as he began to suck on it. John moaned as his hands flew around the man’s shoulders, steadily holding him as Sherlock began to rub his cock on the boy’s leg. John gasped obscenely as his shaft was rubbing against the man’s thigh. 

The boy’s hands travelled down towards Sherlock’s ass, squeezing the fleshy mounds of meat as he pulled the man forward, inviting Sherlock to continue rubbing himself against John. The man rumbled against the boy’s throat as he shifted his position, pressing his cock over John’s and slowly thrusting upwards. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around the boy’s torso as he spun them one more time against the wall. The man released John’s skin as he came up to claim the boy’s lips, their spinning had stopped once again as Sherlock pressed John’s entire body towards the wall. The boy kept running his hands over the man’s back, his fingers dancing over the clothed skin that he adored. 

Sherlock gently pulled away from the kiss when he eyed the cobblestone road ahead, a familiar image that he had seen back in London when he gained knowledge involving fountains that were famous in Italy. John chased after the man’s lips, pulling Sherlock back into his embrace as he clasped his lips around the man’s long pale neck. 

The boy sucked on the tender flesh, savoring the pale skin that he craved to taste. 

“We’re close.” Sherlock whispered. 

“What?” John asked in between kisses and licking the man’s neck. 

The man studied the cobblestone road ahead and looked up at the buildings surrounding them. “John!” Sherlock pulled away from the boy. “Come on!” The man began to run. “We’re missing it!” 

Sherlock ran excitedly as John went after him, not understanding what could possibly excite the man this much. After a few minutes of running and turning corners, they arrived at their awaited destination. Before them stood a beautiful fountain, it was a tall structure that involved rocks made out of marble along with statues that resembled the gods, goddesses and warriors of Italy. 

The water sprinting from the fountain was crystal blue, the resemblance of lucid water which was only found in lagoons and lakes, was mesmerizing to see. And the lights illuminating the fountain only made the structure resemble the gateway to heaven. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she? I remember reading about this fountain back in London but never did I care to learn where it actually resided.” Sherlock grabbed the boy’s hand. “Come on! Let’s climb it!” 

Sherlock and John approached the fountain, carefully stepping onto the marble carved rocks as they reached the top. They both shouted in happiness as they almost approached the top, where a beautifully carved goddess was displayed. Sherlock and the boy reached the top, shouting in excitement before they laid back on the smooth surface. 

The two rested peacefully on the plain rock as they looked up at the stars, nature’s most simple yet exquisite masterpiece. 

“So, tell me what’s special about this fountain?” John asked, eager to hear Sherlock explain the history of the fountain. 

The man smiled as he kept his gazed fixed on the stars, occasionally lifting his hands in the air to exemplify the vast meaning of this fountain. “This fountain was created to show how love and war are two battles that can neither be won nor defeated. The gods along with famous warriors are placed on the right, signifying their importance like those who served as god’s right hand. They were representing war.” 

Sherlock faced John. “On the left, you have gorgeous goddesses who obviously represented love. Beauty and kindness were embedded in these women. And if you clashed both love and war together, you have chaos. The violence of man being blinded by the elegance of women. Both strong sexes that are capable of fighting each other.” 

Then Sherlock pointed above them. “This goddess was grace but yet a fighter, a creation of the two could be mixed together and the result was evident. War and love can be combined to defeat evil and bring peace, the manifestation that humans must learn in order to survive.” 

The boy smiled widely. “Fantastic.” 

The man faced John and kissed him. “I don’t have an international reputation for nothing.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, my reputation in London proceeds me but not such in Italy apparently.” 

The boy made a confused face when he realized that he had no idea what Sherlock did for a living in London. “What do you do in London?” 

“I’m a consulting detective.” 

John was shocked. “What? Really? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because you never asked.” 

The boy laughed as he lightly shoved the man’s shoulder. “Well, now I know.” 

John rested himself on his elbow as he faced Sherlock, pulling the man closer to him, they were about to kiss when the boy covered his mouth. He ran down the rocks, leaving Sherlock confused as he followed John, wondering if he did something wrong. Once the boy reached the bottom of the fountain, he fell to his knees as he couldn’t hold back any longer. He vomited out the contents of alcohol in his stomach. 

Sherlock laughed as he jumped the last remaining rocks and came to John’s side. “You’re so respectful to not empty out your stomach on the fountain.” 

The boy snorted as he looked up at the man. “Fuck you.” 

Sherlock chuckled as he slipped his arm around John’s waist, picking up the boy and helping him stand on his feet. The man held John closely as they approached a trash bin, the boy quickly approached it when he regurgitated the final contents in his stomach. Once John was done, he went towards a drinking fountain and rinsed his mouth multiple times before the taste of vomit left his palette. 

Sherlock approached the boy, rubbing John’s back and comforting the boy. John stood up straight and faced the man, Sherlock wrapped his hands around the boy’s neck, grazing his thumbs across John’s cheeks. The man intertwined his fingers with the boy’s as they walked a bit, heading towards a deserted area. 

Sherlock was smiling down at John, admiring how the boy had such a close resemblance to the sun. How John shined so brightly, the beautiful sunny rays emitting from his body were blinding. A sight that he found warming, a sight that screamed of home. The man smiled even more at the prospect of having the sun in his arms, a necessary light that was needed to illuminate his dark sky. 

The boy looked up at Sherlock, beaming brightly at having the honor of gazing into the stars, and even getting a glimpse of the moon. His raw affections becoming unfiltered to the man’s eyes, he wanted Sherlock to see how the man affected him. John lived his entire life in the sun, never finding a spot that granted him shade or the benefit of providing him another view that wasn’t bright. 

And now that Sherlock became his galaxy, why on earth would he crave the light from the sun, when the stars provided him with a light that was angelic and soothing. 

Sherlock leaned against the wall while the boy came to stand before him. The man’s features became soft as he looked down at John, staring straight into his eyes. The boy was the only burning star that he needed in order to live, to move on, and to exist. Sherlock never realized how much he cared for John and how the boy evolved to become more than just someone he cared for. 

The man would do anything to keep John, though unknown forces would do everything they can to not let that happen. 

The boy looked up at Sherlock and stood surprised at how far they managed to get. Yes, Sherlock was a complex bundle of arrogance, narcissism, and was completely insufferable beyond belief. But beneath that human veil he created for himself, Sherlock was also brilliant, wonderful, witty but above all, he was human. 

He was person who felt emotions, who was willing to express himself, and the man was open to let John into his fascinating world. 

The boy wouldn’t trade in Sherlock for anything in the universe. 

The alcohol in their system was causing their vision to become blurry, as if the impolite distance between the two was the cause of living in a world where everything existed in vagueness. Sherlock placed his hand on the crook of John’s neck, the warmth of the boy’s skin causing sparks of light throughout the man’s body. 

Sherlock came closer, indolently, the haziness from before was fading away and their world was becoming clear again. John’s eyes began to feel heavy as he opened his mouth, waiting for the man to kiss him. Sherlock delicately pressed his lips against the boy’s, sweetly delivering the most tender kiss he could ever give to John. 

The man cupped the boy’s neck as he pulled John closer, wanting to feel every part of the boy against him. Sherlock needed to feel John’s presence and hold him in between his arms, begging for time to stop and never begin the countdown to his departure. The boy wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist, holding the man and worshipping him like a religious temple. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John and Sherlock couldn’t hold back their carnal urges any longer, the man grabbed the boy’s hand and they both raced back to their hotel room. They fumbled up the stairs and entered their room. Sherlock held onto either side of John’s head as he pushed the boy towards the bed. They both landed on the mattress as Sherlock grabbed the back of John’s thigh and lifted the boy’s leg. 

John grabbed a fistful of hair as he bucked his hips, thrusting upwards and rubbing his cock against Sherlock’s. The man moaned as he stepped off the bed, removing his clothes as quickly as possible. The boy did the same, he threw his clothes to the side and tossed his shoes across the room as he laid completely bare for Sherlock. 

The man tossed his briefs aside and climbed onto the bed again, laying on top of John as they resumed to consuming their lips. The boy wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s waist, pulling him tightly and feeling the man’s cock collide with his. The man released John’s lips, hovering his mouth over the boy’s as he placed both hands at either side of John’s head, gasping as he rubbed their shafts together. 

The boy pressed his open mouth against Sherlock’s, breathing in the man as he could feel their cocks becoming erect. 

“Turn around.” Sherlock whispered. 

John released the man’s waist as he faced the mattress, his chest kissing the sheets below as Sherlock slid an arm around his torso. He pulled the boy to his chest; John was on all fours as the man buried his face in the crook of the boy’s neck. Sherlock nipped and sucked on the skin as his free hand caressed John’s thigh before his fingers travelled towards the boy’s mouth. 

John moaned loudly as he felt the man’s fingers coming into his mouth, the boy sucked on the nimble fingers as he pushed back on Sherlock’s cock. Driving the man crazy as Sherlock rolled his hips, he wanted to be inside of John. Once Sherlock felt his fingers were sufficiently moistened by the boy’s delicious salvia, he removed his fingers and rubbed two digits over John’s entrance. 

The boy gasped as he rested his chest on the mattress, his ass was sticking up in the air as Sherlock followed him down. The man grabbed John’s earlobe with his teeth and sucked on it as his fingers circled the pink puckered skin. Sherlock still held the boy by his chest, rocking back and forth when he slipped a finger inside of John. 

The boy reached back and held onto the nape of Sherlock’s neck as the man pushed his finger inside, penetrating John’s ass and loosening the boy up. John turned his head to face Sherlock, he pressed his palm against the man’s pale cheek as he kissed Sherlock. The man passionately intertwined his lips with the boy’s, surging his tongue forward and drinking down every kiss he stole from John. 

Sherlock continued fingering the boy until he slid another digit inside, scissoring his way through the tight ring of muscle and stretching John’s walls apart. Opening the boy as much as he could before he entered his cock inside John’s tight heat. The boy tightened his grip on Sherlock’s curls as he pulled away from their kiss, he stared deep into the man’s lagoon blue eyes as Sherlock exhaled. 

Warm puffs of air were washing over John’s face, making the boy lightly sweat. Sherlock quickened his pace as he crooked his fingers, soaking his digits with the moist liquid that came from John’s ass. The man’s hand that held onto the boy’s pec slowly travelled down towards John’s erect cock, already drops of pre-cum were staining the sheets below. 

Sherlock ran his fingers through the boy’s blond pubic hairs and wrapped his hand around John’s cock. The boy closed his eyes as the man’s cool fingers wrapped around his shaft, pumping John’s girth. Sherlock removed his fingers from the boy’s ass and lined the head of his cock with John’s hole. He pressed the head inside, stilling his movements on the boy’s shaft and holding John by his chest. 

Sherlock buried his long length inside the boy, filling John to the brim and making the boy remember how big the man was. Sherlock closed his eyes at the familiar heat engulfing his cock, squeezing the life out of his shaft as he pressed his mouth against John’s ear. The man returned to stroking the boy’s girth as he began to move. 

John firmly planted his hands on the mattress as he leaned his head back, craving Sherlock’s warmth. Sherlock slowly thrusted forward, his hand fisting the boy’s cock as his balls slapped against John’s. The audible slap emitting from Sherlock’s navel hitting the boy’s ass cheeks was a sound that the man stored in his mind palace. 

The sweat glistening on Sherlock’s back was trickling down his skin, the man held John closely as he pulled his cock out and returned it inside the boy’s crevice. His shaft was slick with John’s wetness and he could feel it slipping down towards his balls. The boy moaned lewdly as he turned to face Sherlock, John held the man’s gaze as the boy pushed back. 

Sherlock’s mouth fell open as John pushed back when he was in the middle of thrusting inside the boy. The sudden push caused the man’s cock to rub over John’s prostate, the boy clenched his walls around Sherlock’s shaft. The man desperately kissed John, his hand tightening around the boy’s girth as slicks of pre-cum drooled all over his fingers. 

Sherlock picked up the pace, slamming into John harder than before as the boy matched his pushes in return. John kept moaning lustfully as his prostate vibrated in a tingly sensation, the head of the man’s cock kept grazing over it. The boy knew that soon, he’d be spilling all over Sherlock’s hand and oh, how he craved to feel the man’s semen pooling inside him. 

Sherlock kept pounding his cock inside John, every slap was a step closer to his releasing, an orgasm that he was chasing after. He desperately wanted to revel in the euphoric state that only the boy could give him. 

“John. John. John!” Sherlock repeated against John’s lips. 

The boy felt the commencements of an orgasm rippling through his cock. “Faster Sherlock. Please!” 

The man fisted John’s cock, delivering fast strokes when the boy closed his eyes and came. John fell towards the mattress, moaning sensually as his shaft pulsed out the last drops of semen. The boy was lost during his aftershocks when he felt Sherlock laying on top of him. The man placed his hands over John’s, threading his fingers through the boy’s as he fucked John. 

Sherlock roughly snapped his hips, feeling the brink of an orgasm running through his cock. He delivered three hard fast thrusts before ropes of semen pooled inside John. The man remained still, hot breaths were escaping his mouth and melting into the boy’s skin. Sherlock rested his forehead against the boy’s back as the aftershocks slowly left his body. 

After a few seconds, the man felt his shaft being completely emptied, the last drops of semen were safely stowed inside of John. 

Sherlock kissed the boy’s back, trailing up towards John’s neck as he whispered. “Sherlock.” 

“John.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Morning was barely visible, the light that streamed outside were blue and dark. The last streaks of the night before were threatening to disappear in a matter of hours. There was still some time before the sun made its appearance and obliterated the darkness that surrounded every corner. A new day that was filled with heartbreak, separation, and goodbyes. 

Sherlock was standing on the balcony, holding onto the railing as he stood completely nude. He’d been standing there for about thirty minutes, just gazing into the abyss and not really caring if anyone considered his vulnerable state as rude and inappropriate. The dark shadows inside the room were dancing over his body, obscuring his back, bum, and legs. 

The voluptuous curves of his ass were hidden from one’s view, since it was still dark, his pale skin wouldn’t be bright enough to illuminate his entire body. He looked out at the small town before him, recalling all the moments and memories he made with John. And recollecting all the memories he stored in his mind palace since he first stepped out of the car and faced B. 

The highlighting moment of his life, was of course, when his eyes laid upon the boy. 

Oh John, that name he never took into consideration until he arrived at B. That name that seemed so common, especially in London, now posed a major importance in his life. A treasure that he held and cared for, a diamond in the rough, one that was meant for him to keep and save. A golden sun that he could no longer hold in his hands, except all he could do was simply watch as it drifted away from his galaxy. 

Sherlock looked back and faced the boy. John was on his belly; he didn’t move from his previous spot after him and Sherlock ended their nightly activities. The boy was sound asleep, he was dreaming about the events that happened. John dreamt about their adventure and the recent sex they indulged themselves into. 

The man came to the boy’s side, a melancholy poison running through his veins. 

Who was he kidding? 

The time that he shared with John was being counted down by a clock, only yesterday did everything seem perfect. But now…here… things felt too real. Reality was a cruel reminder of how life never granted happy endings. The constant ticking of the clock only made Sherlock realize that his happiness in Italy would soon end. 

And now, only a few hours remained before he had to leave and take the train home. Leaving behind the flowers that blossomed when he met the boy. John, of course would always be his garden, all the hard work and time-consuming progress that he gave in to keep his garden alive would now be left behind. 

Sherlock unashamedly admitted to himself that was he wasn’t ready to say goodbye, how could he? 

Damn all his previous beliefs that consisted of sentiment and all the emotions that he considered useless and boring. He didn’t care about the weaknesses he gained, for all he knew, he was proud of gaining a weakness. Sherlock wanted a weakness, a reason to find himself begging to have someone… to have John. 

Sherlock was never one to say goodbye, never was he accounted to express a farewell departure save for when his mother died. But he was never good at it, he never experienced the prospects of speaking words that were meant to be your last ones. 

It was heartbreaking. 

To think that he would only remember the boy in every aspect of their time in Italy but their goodbye would be carved into his skin. 

But what could he do? 

Sherlock tore his gaze away from John and looked down at the floor, not prepared for what was inevitably going to happen. One way or another he had to endure it, even if it pained him to say goodbye to someone who changed him. Even if that person meant more than the air rushing inside his lungs, his purpose and reason for existing. 

Sherlock exhaled loudly as he faced the boy again. “Into battle.”

**Author's Note:**

> May I kindly remind everyone that this is my fic, and if you do not like the way I portray the characters please don’t waste your time reading this and leaving a mean comment. If you do not like what I write then please find another author who will satisfy your cravings. Hopefully you guys enjoy this fic. Toodles!


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